Birthday Bash
by tinytim12
Summary: A surprise guest turns up at Nick's birthday party. One thing leads to another, and now he's on the run from the police! Can he clear his name?
1. Herald

The laptop beeped, indicating a new message. Phoenix Wright looked over his shoulder briefly, then turned away.

'Isn't that important, Nick?' Maya said cheerfully, scrubbing her dish with enthusiasiam.

'Probably not. Just another happy birthday,' Nick grinned sheepishly. 'I didn't know that so many people remembered me.'

'It's because you're the greatest lawyer ever, Nick!' Maya huffed, jerking her sponge at him and sending soap flying all over the place. 'Don't act all modest!'

'Stop getting soap all over my hair! I just gelled it ten minutes ago!'

There was a knock on the door. Maya left the sink and trounced over to open it.

'Hi, Mr Edgeworth!' she said.

'Good afternoon, Ms Fey.' Miles bowed slightly, and looked at Nick. 'Wright.'

'Edgeworth! You're late!'

'I apologise, but really, you of all people shouldn't be telling me that,' he strolled over to inspect the sink, and wrinkled his nose. 'Still as messy as ever, I see...'

'Come on! You've got a butler to do it for you!'

'...On occasion...'

'Anyway, Edgeworth, why were you late? Doesn't seem like you.'

Miles sighed dramatically. 'it wasn't my fault. It was solely the incompetence of my secretary. I don't know how in the world the file of a criminal that was already hanged landed on my desk, but apparently,' Miles shrugged. 'She fails to realise I can't prosecute a dead man.'

Maya coughed loudly, and Miles bolted upright. 'Yes. That reminds me, Wright. I left something at the office. Could you go get it for me.'

'Wha - ? I'm washing dishes, here!'

'Being an errand boy is only slightly more degrading, trust me.'

'Why can't you get get it yourself, Mr high and mighty?'

'Ah..that's because, erm, my, er...' Miles began staring at the ceiling, then suddenly clutched his leg. 'O-ow. I have developed a cramp in my thigh. I can't walk. So can you...'

Nick rolled his eyes. 'It's my birthday, y'know.'

'As one friend to another - please?'

Nick slapped down his sponge, soap splattering onto Miles's jacket. 'Fine, fine. you'd better give me a nice juicy present when you get back.'

When Nick left, Miles was still ruefully rubbing at the wet spots on his cravat. Maya went over and clapped her wet hand on his shoulder.

'H-hey! Stop dirtying my jacket!'

'You deserve it, Mr Edgeworth! I thought you could cook up a better story than that.'

'Ah, yes. I apologise, Ms Fey. It's just that...this whole experience is curiously surreal. I mean, me...a Prosecutor...aiding and abetting in planning a surprise birthday party,' Miles grasped his head. 'It's all too surreal.'

'I guess it doesn't matter much, though, Nick's out of the house, anyway, and that means the fun starts now!' In a sudden spurt of energy, she bounced over to the phone and dialing numbers at top speed.

'What in the world are you doing?'

'Calling Gumshoe, Pearl, everyone! They have to come here right now!'

'Hold it! Isn't that a little bit risky - '

'Mr Edgeworth! You stick to prosecuting, and I'll stick to planning surprises! Deal?'

Miles struggled with all his might, but in the end he could not resist cracking a smile. 'D-deal...' he said. He turned his attention to Nick's laptop, which was still lying on the table, fully open. On the screen were the flashing words YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE.

'Ms Fey,' Miles said. 'The laptop - '

'Yeah. I know,' Maya said, still fiddling with the phone. 'Nick said it's just another happy birthday, but you can check it if you want, it might be - oh hi, is Mr Gumshoe in his office? Erm, he doesn't have an office? Then - '

Miles bent down and tapped a key. The message came up. He read it slowly, his eyebrows slowly ascending.

'Ms Fey,' he said. 'You'd better take a look at this...'

Maya had just put down the phone. 'What?'

'Read it.'

Maya wiped her hands on her skirt and went over to the laptop. Her lips slowly mouthed the words as she read the message. 'I will show you...the most frightening thing in the world.' She frowned. 'What kind of message is that? Who's it from?'

Miles pointed. '.' he read out, with some difficulty. 'Anyone you know?'

'No. Still, what a funny email address...'

Miles stared at the black letters. He opened his mouth, but Maya beat him to it.

'It's a surprise guest!' she exclaimed.

'I-I'm sorry?'

'This is a warning in advance! Whoever sent this email, they'll be sure to turn up and scare the living daylights of Nick with some trick,' she giggled. 'I've only read about this in books.'

'Maya...' Miles began, his brow growing darker.

'I wonder what surprise it'll be! And who sent it? It's a surprise - for both Nick and me,' she picked up a dish and then began washing at a furious speed. 'Mr Edgeworth, this could be it.'

'It?'

'Nick's best birthday yet of course! Of course, the only birthday better than this one would be next years, and the one better than that would be the year after that...'

Miles was opening his mouth again, but he slowly closed it. He cast one last glance at the laptop, and then gently set the screen down, turning it off. He smiled ruefully. There were times where he still thought like a prosecutor, a man of the law, and not like a simple human being. Well, he needed to change his mindset, if only for today. He was determined to make his first surprise party a good one.


	2. Birthday

Miles tugged at his collar, trying not to notice the crowd of people standing before him. 'Ah, yes...' he smirked, confidence flushing into his face. 'The answer was in front of me all along. The solution, is, of course. balloons,' he performed an arrogant shrug. 'Lots and lots of balloons.'

Maya huffed. 'Yes, Mr Edgeworth, balloons and what else?'

'Ah - er - balloons...and... - ack!'

'I thought it was a good answer, sir!' Gumshoe chimed in.

''Detective...gaining your approval isn't exactly going to raise my points here...'

Will Powers held up a meaty hand. 'Slow down. First we need to decide exactly what kind of surprise we will give Mr Wright. Is it going to be a traditional one, where we hide behind everything, or will we - '

'A prank!' said Maya, clapping her hands together. 'We can tell Nick, I don't know, erm, that I'm being engaged to him or something - '

'Really?' Pearl squealed.

'Really!' Gumshoe echoed, not quite on the same wavelength as the others.

As Will hastily tried to correct the misunderstandings, Maya turned her head and saw Miles sprawled over the couch. 'Mr Edgeworth! What are you doing, slacking off?'

'My deepest apologies,' Miles clutched his head, trying to quieten the excited voices screaming around his skull. 'I...don't feel well...'

The doorbell rang, and Pearl went to get it. More voice joined in the discussion, and only served to increase Miles's headache.

_I'm really too old for this... _Miles thought, and tried to block out the voices. Various memories swirled around in his brain, and he remembered the message.

Ten minutes later he was outside with his phone in hand. He stared at the pulsing white screen, and then typed in the email address ''. He sent his own message.

_Who are you?_

The reply came almost immediately, as if someone had been hovering over the keyboard the entire time.

_An old acquaintance. _

His fingers sweating, Miles typed.

_Does Wright remember you?_

_I remember him very well._

_Are you coming to the party?_

_Yes and no._

_What do you mean?_

_You'll find out._

_What are you planning?_

_It's a surprise._

__Miles wasn't picking up on any clues. The neutral, dry sounding messages made it hard to determine the identity of the sender. A sudden thought struck him, and he began typing his next message rapidly.

_Do you know who I am?_

_Miles Edgeworth._

_Do you have my number?_

_Yes._

_Who gave it to you?_

_I found out myself._

__'Edgeworth!'

Miles almost dropped his phone, but he managed to stow it away in his pocket. He turned to see Nick stomping over. 'Edgeworth, I drove all the way up to the Prosecutor's Office when I realised you never even told me what you wanted to get!'

'Ah, apologies, Wright. That was a ruse - ' Miles remembered his mission, and bit down on his tongue. 'ru - rooster! Y-yes, Wright, Roosters. Erm,' he glanced towards the door. 'You can't come in Wright, th-there's renovation. Construction work, quite dangerous stuff...'

Nick's jaw was dropping lower and lower with each word Miles said.

'Ah - I know! Let's walk.'

'Walk?'

'Go for a walk, yes. It's quite, erm, healthy.'

The door opened, and Pearl poked her head out. 'Hi, Uncle Nick!' she beamed. 'You're going to like the sur - '

'Supper!' Miles nearly shouted. 'You'll like the supper, Wright. Anyway - he dragged Pearl past the door and shut it quickly. 'Anyway - let's go for a walk, the three of us.'

'What - where?'

'Er...Gourd Park, maybe.'

Nick glanced at the orange sky. 'It's already getting late, Edgeworth...'

'Ah, we'll just take a quick walk, come on.'

'What's going on?' frowned Pearl.

Miles shot a glare at her. 'I thought you were supposed to be good at these things?'

'What things?' Nick said.

Miles instantly smoothed over his expression with a charming smile. 'Anyway, Wright. Let's go for a walk in the park, shall we? the beauty of nature is something that cannot be replicated - '

'Won't be much to see if it gets dark,' Nick pointed out.

'W-we'll take a short one, of course.'

'Oh, a walk?' Pearl said. 'Can I come?'

'Y-yes, Pearl. You can, I suppose.

Nick scratched his head. 'I swear, Edgeworth, you're acting really strange today.'

'Are we going to stand here admiring blank walls, or contemplate the intrinsic beauties of the park?'

'The...second part.'

The three of them left, Nick chatting happily with Pearl. Miles lagged a little behind, casting furtive glances behind his back_, _and sweating. _I'm really too old for this..._


	3. Warmth

A drop of water landed on Pearl's forehead, and she looked up. Another drop hit her square in the eye.

'O-ow...'

'It's raining,' Nick sighed, covering his hair with his hand. 'Let's get out of here, Edgeworth.'

'N-no,' Edgeworth cast frantically about the park. 'Let's find a shelter and - and contemplate nature from there.'

'What is it with you and nature?'

'Na-nature is soothing, okay?'

The rain suddenly multiplied, cascading around them in torrents. Nick grabbed his head. 'My hair!' he groaned.

'My cravat!' Edgeworth yelped.

Pearl was already dashing across the wet park. 'Uncle Nick! Mr Edgeworth! Over here!'

Soon the three of them were standing under a shelter, shivering at the sudden cold. The rain was heavier now, forming a circle of water around them, blocking their exit.

'Nice walk, Edgeworth,' Nick gritted his teeth.

Miles growled and turned away.

'Hey, Uncle Nick?' Pearl tugged at Nick's arm. 'Are we trapped here?'

'Trapped?' Nick looked around him, and all he saw was open space. 'Well, there's at least a kilometer of rain between us and the office, so...yeah. We're trapped.'

'Oh...' Pearl hung her head. 'It's kinda cold.'

'Yeah. It is, huh?'

Edgeworth was secretly gleaming inside. With the unexpected rain, it looked like Maya and the others would have plenty of time to themselves. He had succeeded in his mission.

'Well, Wright,' he said cheerfully. 'It looks like we're stuck here - ' he faltered at Pearl's miserable expression, and turned away again.

'Edgeworth,' Nick said. 'Be honest. You're trying to get me away from the office, so Maya can plan a surprise party for me, right?'

'Wha - wha -whaaaaaaaaaat?' Miles clutched his cravat. 'What in the world gave you that idea?'

'Come on, Edgeworth. It'll take an idiot not to notice.'

'W-well you are a bit of an idiot anyway...'

'Not that much!'

''Urgh...I was counting your idiocy...'

'I'm not an idiot! I did pass the Bar Exam, in case you didn't know. I even have my own...' he looked down, and went pale.

Edgeworth realised it the same time Nick did. 'Your badge...where is it?'

'My badge!' Nick yelled, whipping his head left and right.

Pearl scratched her head. 'Uncle Nick, I think I saw it when we were walking to the park...'

'Then I must have dropped it somewhere here!' Nick yelled. He darted into the rain.

'You idiot!' Miles shouted after him. 'You'll catch a cold!'

'I'll be an idiot if I don't get my badge back!'

Miles sighed. He removed his cravat and gave it to Pearl. 'Guard this with your life, Pearl.'

'What's this? A tissue?'

'It's a cravat.

'What's that?'

'Just take care of it. And stay here.' Miles straightened his shoulders, and ventured out into the shelter. Almost immediately he was bathed by stinging, chilling rain. He saw Nick crawling around in the grass, and ran over to him.

'Miles!' Nick cried when he saw him. 'Get back inside!'

'Stop worrying about me and find your stupid badge!' Miles yelled back. 'I'll help.'

The two of them stalked the grass silently for a while, the rain mercilessly beating on their backs. After a while Miles straightened up and threw up his hands. 'This is useless, Wright. It's like finding a needle in a haystack.'

'I'll find it faster if you searched faster!'

'It's hard to have my heart in it, if rain keeps pouring down my neck!'

'Then stay in the shelter, then!'

'I can't, obviously!'

'Why?'

'Because...' Miles stopped, and rubbed the back of his head. 'Ah, you are an idiot, you know that?' He bent down again, muttering, 'I'm too old for this...'

Silence again, except for the pattering rain.

'Hey, Edgeworth.'

'Yes?'

'You've really changed a lot, haven't you?'

'I have, thanks to you. By right I shouldn't be out here in the rain searching for a badge smaller than a pin, but honestly, your idiocy has rubbed off on me...'

'I'm not an idiot!'

'Face it Wright, you are an idiot,' Miles wiped the rain of his face, and continued. 'That's not necessarily a bad thing, though. you may be an idiot, but you're the best defense attorney I've ever known.'

'Heh, well...'

'Don't be modest, Wright. I can't stand modesty. Look how many people turned up to surprise you,' Beneath the rain, Miles smiled slightly. 'Believe me, Wright, you're a lucky man to be who you are.'

He stood up, and spread his hands. 'There. Consider that your birthday present.'

'What?'

'A few compliments, courtesy of Miles Edgeworth. That is your present.'

'Compliments? That didn't sound like anything much!'

'T-that was the best I could do.'

'Heh. Well, thanks anyway, Miles.'

They stared awkwardly at each other.

'Hey, Edgeworth?'

'Yes?'

'We need to keep looking for my badge.'

'Agreed.'

It took them ten more minutes in the freezing rain, before Nick let out a cry of relief and held up something brown.

'I've found it!'

Miles looked at the muddied badge. 'It's as messy as you are.'

'I'll have to clean it later, but...' Nick pinned the badge on his shirt, and tried to wipe off the specks of muddy grass as best as he could. 'For now, I'm still ace attorney, Phoenix Wright!'

'Melodramatic as ever, but we need to get out of this rain. It's freezing.'

They reached the shelter quickly, and Miles took off his jacket, which was sopping wet. 'We'll need to wash up - wait a second, where did I leave my cravat - '

'Where's Pearl?' Nick said suddenly.

Miles dropped his jacket and whirled round. The shelter was bare, except for the two of them.

'She was here when i left - I told her not to move!'

Phoenix desperately scanned the grass, and grabbed his head. The rain had ruined his haircut, destroying his spikes and congealing it into a lumpy mess. 'Where's Pearl?'

'We have to look for her.' Mile put his jacket back on quickly. 'She won't last long in this rain.'

'We'll split up,' Nick said, thinking fast. 'You go north, I'll go south. She has to be somewhere.'

* * *

><p>Nick jogged through the rain, calling out Pearl's name. the sky had already turned dark, and he could hardly see, rain dripping down his eyes and the only meagre light he had coming from a lamppost. Abruptly, he sneezed violently, halting in his tracks. After a while he continued his jog.<p>

_The weather's horrible...what was she thinking? Where could she have gone?_

Images of Pearl bedridden with pneumonia rose in his mind, and he panicked. 'Pearl! Pearl!' he shouted in a frenzy.

And then, mercifully, an answer. 'Uncle Nick!'

The cry was faint, but Nick heard it. He spun round and headed towards the direction of her voice.

'Uncle Nick, over here!'

A shelter melted out of the rain. Nick ran towards it, and to his relief, he could make out the figure of Pearl standing there. Dimly, he registered someone was standing behind her, but he was too occupied with relief.

'Pearl!' he called out again.

'Uncle Nick!' Pearl called back, as he got closer.

'Hello, Phoenix Wright,' the voice behind her said, and Nick noticed the new arrival for the first time. He shifted his eyes upward, and saw his surprise guest.

'It's been a long time, Mr Wright,' the figure said. 'May I show you now? The most frightening thing in the world?'


	4. Gift

Nick squinted his eyes. He couldn't see who the man behind Pearl was. The shelter's roof cast a shadow over him, rendering him a completely indiscernible silhouette. He continued jogging towards the shelter.

'Stop,' the man said quietly.

By all rights, Nick shouldn't have stopped. He wouldn't have, in the middle of the freezing rain and so far from shelter. But he stopped, stopped dead in his tracks, and looked at the silhouette with surprise. There was something in his voice, something softly subtle embedded in its layers, that commanded absolute attention.

Pearl hadn't noticed anything. 'Uncle Nick!' she shouted. 'Come on.'

'Who is he?' Nick shouted, trying to make himself heard over the pounding rain, which had only gotten worse over the past few minutes.

'Oh, him,' Pearl cast one glance back at the figure, and turned to smile sheepishly at Nick. 'Well - I wanted to help look for your badge, but I got lost in the rain, but,' she brightened up. 'He rescued me!'

'And in good time, too,' the man said. 'She could have caught a cold, wandering in the rain like that. She could have even gotten something worse. She could have eventually died. You should take better care of your charges, Mr Wright.' His voice cut through the air like silk, somehow discernible despite the roar of the rain.

'Who are you?' Nick shouted at him, gritting his teeth.

'You don't remember me?' the man said. 'I'm disappointed.'

'Let me see your face!'

'I'm sorry. I don't have a face anymore.'

Pearl looked up at him. 'What do you mean, mister? You have a face.'

'Yes,' the man bowed his head. 'That face is worth nothing to me. i am ashamed of it. Turn around, Pearl.

'Okay...' she turned. 'Uncle Nick! Get out of the rain, already!'

'Usually, no one alive knows my real face,' the man was saying. 'Usually, those who know have all died.'

Nick felt a chill shoot down his bones. 'Who are you?' he shouted desperately.

'I think I will show you now,' the man said. 'The most frightening thing in the world.'

'Pearl,' Nick found himself saying, 'Pearl, get away from him...'

'Uncle Nick?'

The shadowy form of the man's hand moved, and slowly extended out of the darkness. The hand was holding a gun.

Nick stared at the hand, suddenly oblivious of the rain.

'Uncle Nick?'

'Pearl,' Nick rasped slowly, and then found his voice. 'Pearl!' he screamed. 'Don't move! Don't you dare move!'

'Uncle Nick?'

Nick lifted his wide eyes to the figure's dark head. 'What do you want! Just - please - just - don't shoot. '

'I'm sorry, Mr Wright,' the figure brought the gun forward, so that it was almost resting at the back of Pearl's head.

'Please - ' Nick gasped out. 'I-is it money you want? Money? I-I have my wallet here, I - '

'It has nothing to do with money, Mr Wright.' the figure said. 'This is more of a...personal issue.'

'Uncle Nick?' Pearl turned around, and saw the barrel pointing at her. Her eyes widened. 'UNCLE NICK!'

'Don't move, Pearl!' Nick screeched.

'You and I met a while ago,' the figure said, completely ignoring the hysterical girl in front of him. 'A while ago, you did me a great disservice. I've come to collect your debt. Consider it a birthday gift if you will.'

Pearl started sobbing.

'Please, Pearl, be quiet.' the man said, and she fell silent immediately.

Nick struggled to control his thoughts. He was about two meters away from Pearl and the man with the gun. If he could lunge forward, drag Pearl out of the way...

The man's voice cut down any possibilities of resistance. 'Please do not try anything, Mr Wright. You have absolutely no idea how much I want to pull the trigger.'

Nick's heart jumped. 'Why?' he shouted. 'Just - just tell me what you want!'

'I just told you, Mr Wright. I want to pull the trigger and murder this little girl.'

'No -I - look,' Nick cast wildly for a reply that would appease the madman threatening Pearl. 'I-I'm sorry. Whatever I did to you in the past, I-I'm sorry.'

'You're lying, Mr Wright. You don't even know what you did.'

'I- I- Then, just tell me, please. Who are you? Why are you doing this?'

The shadow was silent. Pearl started sobbing again. The rain poured around them.

'Look,' Nick said. 'I - '

The gun fired. Nick closed his eyes at the bang, and when he opened them, he saw Pearl lying on the ground.

There was a red hole at the back of her head.

Nick collapsed to his knees.

He didn't know how long he stared at Pearl's body. All he registered was, at some point, a hand gently touched his shoulder, a face leaned in, a voice whispered into his ear.

'Mr Wright. You have no idea how much I hate you.'

Then the voice left him, and he was alone with Pearl and the rain.

The rain flooded his thoughts. His vision clouded. He keeled over, and let his eyes close. He didn't want to see Pearl's body anymore.


	5. Rain

Nick's office was a flurry of activity. Maya had set up several ambush points around the door, each station equipped with a excited partygoer, a balloon, and a really sharp pin. When Nick entered, he was sure to experience the most shocking thing of his life.

She glanced at her watch. Miles was sure taking his time.

She looked out of the window, and shivered at the stinging draft that suddenly whipped at her face. The weather was terrible, the rain howling and the thunder moaning. It looked like one thing was off, that this would not be Nick's Best Birthday after all.

* * *

><p>Nick didn't want to wake up. He didn't want to see the body. So he clung on to unconsciousness as long as he could, deliriously happy in his ignorance, until, he felt someone shaking him, launching him out of his comfortable sphere.<p>

'Nick,' Miles said. 'Nick.'

Nick groaned, and looked around. Relief exploded inside him. He was no longer in the middle of the heartless rain, with the man who hated him and the girl he had killed, but in a hospital bed surrounded by calm white walls.

'Miles..' Nick croaked. 'I..I had a horrible dream.'

Miles's face was dark, and that told Nick all he needed to know.

'Miles,' he said. 'Is Pearl...dead...'

Miles looked away.

'Answer me, Miles.'

Miles started pacing around the room, locking his arms across his chest.

'Answer me - '

'She's dead,' Miles said.

A smothering silence hung over the room. Nick looked dazedly around the room. Outside, it was still raining.

'Oh,' he said softly.

He weakly pushed himself up into a sitting position. 'I guess I should be crying my eyes out, then, huh?'

Miles didn't reply. He started pacing faster.

'But...i dunno...Pearl can't be dead, right? So I'm not crying.'

Nick's expression contorted into a mask of of pain. 'T-that makes sense, doesn't it? Pearl can't be dead. She's just ten. She can't...'

'Wright,' Miles snapped suddenly. 'Get a hold of yourself.'

'I-I am, Miles...'

'No. No you're not. It isn't over, Wright, and I need you to wake up.'

'M-miles?'

'Call me Edgeworth,' Miles started pacing around the room again. 'That man...the man who kil - who made Pearl pass away...did you see his face?'

'Mi - Edgeworth...what are you doing?'

'I'm trying to find Pearl's killer. Did you see his face?'

'No...he was a shadow...'

'A shadow?'

'I mean, he was covered by shadows. I couldn't find his face.'

'So you don't have anything that can help the police identify him?'

'No...'

'Then at least, did he ramble? Did he say anything?'

'No - yes. He said...he said he hated me.'

And then the tears came gushing out. Nick collapsed back on the bed, weeping. 'He said he hated me, Miles. He said he hated me enough to shoot a ten year old girl. Why, Miles? Why would anyone do that?'

'Because he's a fucking sick bastard,' Miles replied, his features briefly flaring up. He was about to say more, but regained himself in time. 'And - anyway, I told you to call me Edgeworth.' he said stiffly.

Nick had ignored the outburst. 'He said I did him wrong a while ago...but why? I don't understand. He can't hate me that much.'

'Of course,' Miles said, almost to himself. 'It's one of your old enemies, Wright. The ones you put away. Some have already been released by now. Those bastards are walking freely in the streets. It's one of them.'

He strode to the door, legs pumping with furious energy. 'I'll need to check the court records...;

The door opened in front of him, and a two policeman marched in, their faces tight and their hands at their sides. Nick looked at them in surprise.

'Mr Edgeworth?' on of the policemen droned. 'Have you finished the questioning?'

'Well, no, but...you're going to transfer him now?'

'What?' Nick said. 'What's going on?'

Miles turned to him, and looked down. 'I'm sorry, Wright. I wasn't the first one to find you. The police heard the gunshot, and they rushed over, and...'

Nick already knew what was going to be said next. He had seen the same thing happen to each and every one of his clients.

'..and they found you alone with Pearl. There was a gun in your hand.'

'I'll take it from here, Mr Edgeworth,' one of the policemen said. Nick couldn't tell whether it was the same one who had spoken. Both seemed equally robotic. The policeman turned his stony gaze towards him.

'Phoenix Wright. You are under arrest for the murder of Pearl Fey. Anything you say can and will be held against you in the court of law.'


	6. Limbo

Halfway down the stairs to the police car, Nick suddenly twisted round, taking a step backwards. The policemen immediately pounced on him, slamming him against the wall.

'Hey!' Miles shouted, his face red. 'What in the world are you doing?'

'He's trying to escape, Mr Edgeworth.'

'N-no,' Nick whispered. 'My badge..'

'Your badge?'

'My badge! Where is it?' Nick grabbed at his clothes, which consisted of only a hospital gown. 'My badge! Where is it? Where's my suit?'

'I'd advise you to remain silent, Mr Wright,' the policeman said. 'Anything you say can and will - '

'Quiet!' Miles barked at him. He turned to Nick. 'Wright, they took your suit away as evidence. There was some blood on it.'

'B-but my badge...'

'They took it with them. I'm sorry.'

'My badge...' Nick croaked. He struggled against the policeman's grip, and then with a sudden burst of strength pushed him away. He staggered down the carpark, emerging into the rain, the policemen flying after him.

'My badge!' Nick screamed. 'I need my badge! I was looking for it!'

He was tackled by a policeman and sent hurtling to the ground.

'Pearl was looking for it!' he screamed at their faces. 'She wants to find it, don't you see? We have to give it to her!'

The two policemen regarded him coldly, and marched him to the car, their bodies pressed tightly against him on either side. They bundled him inside. Miles arrived after them, furious.

'You brutes!' he was shouting, rain dripping down from his hair. 'I'll report you to the Chief - '

'He was trying to escape, Mr Edgeworth,' the man said, his face not moving a muscle.

Inside, Nick was crying again. No one heard his sobs. They were drowned out by the rain.

The next day was like a dream. Nick was dumped in a cell, where he spent most of his hours retreating into a thin sleep. He didn't know what time it was. After a while the policemen came and marched him out again, plonking him in a chair.

Someone was speaking to him. Nick slowly registered that he was behind a glass panel. He was in the detention center. Someone was speaking to him from outside.

'...Furio Tigre got out just a week ago, and Luke Atmey a long time before that,' Miles was saying. 'I'll check their alibis. Meanwhile, Wright, you just stay here. I'll find the real killer, don't you worry - '

'Why?' Nick said softly. He hunched over, looking at the floor.

'Wright?'

'I don't understand, Edgeworth,' Nick said. 'I don't understand. Why would he do that?'

'He's a monster - '

'No! It's not just like that. What in the world did I do to him!' Nick clutched his head. 'What did I do to make him kill a defenceless ten year old girl? I don't understand.'

'People are like that, Wright.'

'No - '

'Yes, Wright. They are. Believe me, in all your cases, you have barely scraped the surface of what people are capable of. The man who killed Pearl - he's just a complete monster, and nothing more.'

'But...I created that monster. I did something. But I don't understand what that was! What the hell did I do?'

'You did what was right,' Miles said simply. 'You put him away. You made sure justice was done. If he doesn't like it, it's his problem.'

But Nick was shaking his head. He was mouthing something. Miles leaned forward.

'What was that again, Wright?'

'I said that it's a good thing I lost my badge, then.'

Miles stared. He tried to formulate a reply, but he couldn't.

Nick lifted his haggard eyes. 'Edgeworth. How long am I going to stay here?'

'N-not for long. I'm going to be your defense attorney, Wright. It'll just be like that case. With Godot, only that I'll bring this one to a speedy conclusion. Rest assured, Wright...'

Nick wasn't listening any more. After some time, Miles got up and left, and Nick was forced back into his blank cell.

* * *

><p>Once again he was floating in limbo, incapable of doing anything but thinking. He was roused abruptly when a guard entered the cell.<p>

'Mr Wright?' the guard said. 'I have a message for you.'

Nick didn't bother to get up. 'From Edgeworth?'

'No. Actually I'm not sure who it was, and the man didn't give a name. He just told me to tell you...'

Outside, it started to rain again.

'...told me to tell you that your birthday gift isn't finished yet.'

Nick was silent. Then the revelation hit him like a gunshot. He bolted upright, horrible thoughts shooting into his brain.

_Pearl wasn't enough...?_

_Then... _

Nick suddenly felt very, very small, and the world very, very, big.

The guard frowned. 'Sir...? Are you alright - '

Nick's hand swung out. 'What the heck?' he screeched, pointing.

The guard whirled round, trying to focus on what Nick had glanced at, and that was when Nick dashed past him, dashed past the open door, and dashed out of his cell.

'H-hey!' the guard yelled. Nick slammed the door behind him, and heard the auto lock click into place. The guard pounded his fists on the other side of the door, before falling silent, to take out the keys to the cell.

Nick ran for his life. He ran across the empty corridor, stumbling and panting, with only one thought ingrained into his mind.

_I have to stop him._


	7. Awakening

The first thing Nick did after he was well out of sight of the detention center was to steal a phone. He didn't care about the implications. The phone was left unattended at a table at an open air cafe, and Nick simply scooped it up, never breaking his stride. As he hurried on, he dialed Maya's number and pressed the phone to his ear.

She didn't pick up after three rings. Nick thought he would go mad. He was about to hang up when Maya's voice burst into his ear.

'Who is this?'

'M-maya! Are you okay?'

'Er, who is this?'

'T-this is Nick.'

'Nick? Where are you? We spent all night waiting for you and you didn't come - '

'Listen, Maya. You might be in danger. Someone's trying to kill everyone and you need to - '

'Nick - '

'Listen! You need to - to get out of the country. Find somewhere to hide. tell Edgeworth and..and Gumshoe. And everyone else who came to the party. They're targets.'

'Nick, who are you talking about Who's targeting us?'

'I don't know!' Nick nearly shouted. 'That's the problem. I don't know. Just get somewhere safe, somewhere to hide.' He was about to add, _and tell the __police, _but then he realised they wouldn't believe her, if she got the story from him. He was a wanted felon now.

He suppressed the thought. 'Maya, stay safe. Thanks for the party.'

'Wait, Nick! What happened to Pearl - '

He hung up, and let the phone fall limply to his side. So, she hadn't heard about Pearl. He wondered how she would react when she heard the news. He pictured her on the sofa, wailing in despair. She had been planning to take Pearl on as a protege in the spirit medium business, and she had been excitedly telling him a few days back about flying to the mountains for the Spirit Medium Training Package with Pearl. Nick's heart tightened, and he felt the first vestiges of anger seep into his veins.

The man, Pearl's killer, had to be caught. The police wouldn't help him, and all his friends were in too much danger. Nick would have to do it himself.

But Nick had no clue who he was. The disembodied voice of the man he had met that night in the rain was completely new to him. And, although Miles had said the identity of the culprit was probably one of those whom Nick had previously exposed in court, Nick couldn't accept that. All of the criminals he had put away weren't that monstrous. They wouldn't have murdered Pearl simply to spite Nick...would they?

Still, there was no one else he could think of, no one else he could have damaged so utterly. He replayed his conversation with Miles over in his head. Furio Tigre...and Luke Atmey. Two former killers now walking freely in the streets. They were his only leads.

Both their cases were still foggy in his mind, and he couldn't remember the details of either one. Tigre, however, he was fairly sure, ran a loan shark operation at Tender Lender. He could even remember approximately where Tender Lender was.

That was his only clue, his only desperate thread. Tigre could be Pearl's killer, or he could not. He just had to try his luck, although deep in his heart he knew he was betting against towering odds.

He ran to the bus stop, and almost boarded the bus, but rational thought had been returning bit by bit, and he stopped to consider something. He was still wearing his prison uniform, a grey shirt and pants, which would stick out like a sore thumb if the police came looking for him. The police would be looking for him. So Nick entered a nearby clothing shop, and selected a trenchcoat, a white shirt, and some jeans. He gathered them in his arms, and while no one was looking, he dashed out of the shop with his spoils.

He marvelled at how automatic stealing had become.

He got changed in a darkened alleyway,and once he had done he went out to inspect his appearance in the reflection of a shop display window.

All in all, he looked like a homeless man and nothing like a lawyer. But the thing that stunned Nick most was his hair. It had been utterly destroyed beyond repair by the rain, and now it was drooping down his forehead in messy strands. Nick's hands unconsciously went to his head, and he began moulding it, like he had twenty four hours ago, styling his hair with Gatsby gel.

But now, try as he might, he couldn't restore his hair to his former glory. Eventually he gave up, and boarded the bus, heading towards Tender Lender.


	8. Fade

It was only on the bus did Nick begin to realise the impossibility of his mission. Even if Tigre turned out to the killer, what exactly was Nick supposed to do? Confront him? Before he could figure out the answer he was already standing in front of Tender Lender.

Or at least, what was left of it. Since Tigre's absence, it had been converted into some sort of electronics shop. The glossy table and the vibrant trinkets had all been replaced by dull looking radios. Nick stared at the shop in disbelief, and turned around, walking aimlessly. Tigre wasn't here. It's not like Nick had had much of a chance meeting him, anyway. The next target was probably Atmey, but Nick couldn't remember anything about him, or where he might have gone...

'Excuse me, sir,' someone was saying. 'Are you feeling hungry?'

Nick looked up. A goth-looking girl in a uniform was handing him a flyer. He took it wearily and looked at it.

_This looks like an advertisment for a french restaurant named Tres Bien...where have I heard that before..._

Memories began flooding back. Tres Bien, the restaurant where the poisoning of Glen Elg had occurred. A poisoning conducted by both Furio Tigre, and...

'Viola Cadeverini,' Nick whispered, looking at the waitress clearly for the first time. She looked more or the less the same as he had recalled, except that her hair was somewhat shorter and her bandage was gone.

She hadn't heard him. 'What was that, sir?'

Apparently she didn't recognise him. Nick could sympthatise; he would hardly recognise himself now if he bumped into himself on the street.

'Nothing,' Nick said. 'As a matter of fact, I am feeling a bit peckish. Where's this Tres Bien?'

'Over there, sir,' she pointed to a small looking restaurant nestled in the corner.

Viola wasn't chuckling or whispering in malevolent monotones as he had remembered, and he was itching to talk to her about this, and about everything else. 'Well, erm, could you serve me?'

'I'm sorry, sir?'

'Well, you see - ' Nick knew he would regret the lie that sprung from his lips, but boundaries had long ceased to exist since that rainy night. ' - I, erm, have a sort of fetish for girls with dark hair in waitress uniforms. I, er, won't eat there unless you serve me personally.'

She cocked her head at him. 'Okay,' she said.

_That fast?_

She walked him to the restaurant, her boots transversing over the pavement silently.

'Er,' Nick said. 'Are you really okay with this?'

'To be honest with you, sir, Tres Bien doesn't have much business. I just do what I can, sir.'

They entered the restaurant, and Nick braced himself against the sight of the sickly pink interior. But something had gone wrong during his absence. What greeted him were not garish colours but faded walls, the paint peeling off them, vandalised and tarnished on every corner. The restaurant was almost bare, all its accessories sold and gone, and what remained were only a few lackluster tables and chairs. The door chime worked, which at least counted for something, and it brought a fat man waddling out of the kitchen.

Nick looked up and saw the familiar face of Jean Armstrong.

'Ah, hello, mon petit!' Armstrong squealed. 'please, I beg you, take a - ' he suddenly doubled over, coughing violently. Both he and Viola waited silently until he had regained his strength.

'-Take a seat, Monsieur, and I hope you haven't been offended, merci. You're meal will be ready in a flash, don't move!'

He moved back to the kitchen. Nick was left alone with Viola. He took a seat. Viola stood in the corner, like a statue, and watched him.

Nick coughed loudly. 'This place - erm, I used to remember it was more... colourful.'

'Yeah,' Viola said shortly. 'It was.'

The room fell silent again. Nick began tapping his fingers on the table. He was wondering why he hadn't revealed his identity to her yet. He didn't know why, but he felt somehow reluctant. Instead he tried a different approach. 'Say...I thought I saw you at that old loan shark company once. Tender Lender...was it?'

She started at the name. 'Y-yeah...but don't worry sir, I've turned over a new leaf, and...'

'I knew the man who was working there,' Nick said. 'His name was...Furio Tigre. You were working with him right? And then I heard he got sent to jail, but he was released a few days ago.'

'Yeah...that's what I heard. But don't worry, sir. He's not coming back.'

'Really? What gave you that idea?'

Viola looked away. 'He made it quite clear, sir. He won't ever come back.'

'Then...you're out of the loan shark business, then?'

'Yes. You don't have to worry about me, sir. Just enjoy the food.'

Armstrong abruptly bustled in, holding his mouth and coughing. In his other hand was the food. Nick barely had time to realise he actually hadn't placed an order, before Armstrong set down a seafood flavoured Cup Ramen on the table.

Nick stared at the murky noodles. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

'I'll get you some coffee, sir,' Viola said softly, and departed.

Armstrong had retreated to the corner of the room to continue coughing, so as not to disturb his precious customer. Nick looked at the pathetic figure, looked around at the diseased walls of the restaurant, and looked at his soggy noodles.

'Mr Armstrong?' he said quietly. 'Your restaurant's not doing too well, is it?'

Armstrong was too occupied with coughing to answer.

'Are you sick?'

Armstrong shook his head. 'No, mon ami, don't worry about me, and - ' he hacked out one last cough, ' - and enjoy your meal, sir, bon appetit!'

Nick looked at him uncertainly, and then turned his attention to Viola, who had returned with a steaming hot mug of coffee. He was pleasantly surprised to see a smile on her normally gloomy face.

'What're you so happy about?' he said.

'Nothing, sir, just sit back and enjoy the coffee I made...hee...hee...hee...'

Nick took the cup. 'I haven't heard you laugh like that in a long time.'

She narrowed her eyes. 'Do I know you, sir?'

Nick said nothing, but lifted the coffee to his lips. The first faint signs of recognition flickered in Viola's eyes.

'Mr Wright?' she whispered.

Nick nodded, and tipped his cup backwards, anticipating warm coffee slushing down his throat.

Viola leapt forwards, slamming Nick's arm against the table. The coffee flew out of his hands and spilled all over the floor.

'Viola? What - '

The look in her eyes silenced him. She stood there for a few moments, breathing hard, glaring at the deadly coffee seeping across the floor, before she turned away. 'I'm sorry, Mr Wright,' she said. 'That was poisoned.'

'Poisoned?'

Armstrong moved over to them with surprising speed. 'P-poison?' he screeched. 'Ms Cadaverini - you - you didn't - '

Viola turned away from both of them, and walked quickly to the door. Nick finally recovered himself, caught up with her, and blocked her way. 'Viola. What the hell just happened?'

She avoided his gaze. 'Things have changed, Mr Wright.'

'Look at me, Viola.'

'I'm sorry - '

'Tell me everything,' Nick said, feeling like he had just stepped off the deep end of a cliff. 'Tell me what changed. Don't miss a single detail. I want to hear it all.'


	9. Butterfly

The noodles stayed where they were, slowly congealing into an inedible mess on the table. The coffee remained strewn across the floor. The three of them had left the dark confines of the shop, and were now basking in the sunlight outside.

'Ms Cadaverini,' Armstrong was still babbling. 'You can't - you can't just put poison in people's coffee, zut alors!'

Viola completely ignored him, facing Nick.

'Viola,' Nick repeated, 'What happened?'

'Exactly what you've seen. I'm out of a job, so I ended up working in this dump, and we barely get any customers thanks to his cooking. We sold and sold everything until we didn't have anything left. That's it.'

'But didn't you have a rich grandfather or something? What was his name...Bruto Cadaverini.'

'He's dead,' Viola said shortly. 'Cancer.'

'Oh.'

'After his death, the family started squabbling. There's a mob war going on now. No one cares about me anymore, Mr Wright. No one in the world does.'

'But...Mr Armstrong...'

'He doesn't like me much either.'

Armstrong shuffled back to the shop, muttering something under his breath. Viola stared after him. 'The only reason I'm with him is because we're in the same boat.'

'What about Tender Lender?'

She sighed, and looked down at her scrawny arms. It struck Nick that she looked even more malnourished than before. 'Don Tigre was the boss of Tender Lender, not me. I was just a poor substitute. Look at me, Mr Wright. Do I look like I can intimidate anyone?'

Nick desperately tried to think of an answer. 'Erm...well...you seemed pretty threatening to me when we first met...'

She smiled hollowly. 'I'm just a little girl, Mr Wright. No one's going to pay any attention to me. When I went to collect debts, they just laughed at me. Some even...harassed me. And I couldn't do anything. The girl you met a few years ago, Mr Wright? She's just a facade. I've never actually poisoned anyone in my entire life.'

She hung her head, her hair falling across her face and hiding her eyes. Nick suddenly remembered the original purpose of his visit.

'You said Furio Tigre wasn't coming back to Tender Lender, even if he was released.'

Viola nodded slightly.

'Erm...where is he now?'

'I don't know,' Viola spoke the next words so quietly Nick could barely discern them. 'He just said he wasn't coming back.'

'When was this?'

Viola was silent. Nick was beginning to think she hadn't heard him, but then she spoke.

'I went to see him in the detention center one day. It's just that, after the whole mess with Tender Lender, I just wanted to see him. But he - he shouted at me. Calling me a traitor and a lot of other things. He said he never wanted to see my face again. The guards said later that they had never seen him this angry...'

She sniffed briefly, and continued. 'It's true, actually. I did sell him out on that case a few years ago.'

'Viola...'

'And now...' her shoulders trembled. 'I guess I'm all alone now...working for that fat idiot... and actually poisoning people now...'

'Viola. You didn't poison anyone else, didn't you?'

She slowly shook his head. 'You were supposed to be the first.'

'It wouldn't have worked anyway. I don't have any money on me.'

She smiled hollowly. 'Then it's just too funny, isn't it?'

'No, No it's not. You could have killed someone! And, for what, a few dollars? You weren't thinking, Viola!'

She gave a half-hearted shrug.

'Promise me you'll never poison anyone again. Look me in the eye and promise - Viola, look at me!'

But she continued to gaze downwards, unresponsive. In frustration, Nick grabbed her by the shoulders.

'You aren't going to poison anyone, Viola. You're going to - to - work honestly and earn lots of money and work your way to the top and...and...'

Nick wasn't aware he was crying at first. Then he saw the tears slip down from his face, and he released Viola. He staggered backwards and fell to a heap on the ground. Once again, he felt the world slipping away from him.

'Mr Wright...' Viola said. 'Why are you crying?'

'Because it's my fault,' Nick croaked. 'It's all my fault, isn't it?'

'Mr Wright - '

'I was the one who did everything,' Nick said. 'I was the one who set off the chain reaction. I was the one who put Tigre away. I was the one who made you betray him. I was the one who caused Tender Lender to close down. It was all me.'

He looked at Viola. 'You should have poisoned me, then.'

'What? You just said - '

'Don't you want to get revenge?' Nick suddenly shouted. 'I ruined your life, for goodness' sake! Why? Tell me, why, why did you stop me from drinking that coffee? Why?'

'Mr Wright,' Viola said. 'It isn't your fault.'

Nick put his hands over his face and curled up. 'Yes. Everything's my fault. Every single case...I was so foolish, thinking nothing would matter...but locking people up, removing them from society, there was always a catch, wasn't there?' he turned his tear streaked face towards Viola. 'I remember..everyone. How much they cried during each case...so many secrets I exposed...everything was fine for everyone until I poked my nose in. People must...must really hate me now, huh?'

'You were just doing your job..'

'Fuck my job!' Nick yelled. 'Pearl's dead!'

There was a brief lull. Nick continued to sob into his coat, Viola staring at him helplessly. Silence reigned over the two of them.

Armstrong broke it. He tottered down the steps with the cup ramen he had prepared, his face remaining perfectly neutral. 'Here, Monsieur. Noodles tend to get soaked if left out for too long, and I'm sure you wouldn't want to waste your money, yes?'

Nick stared at the soggy mess as if it was from another world. Slowly, he took the cup.

'You are Monsieur Phoenix Wright, yes? The lawyer?'

Nick nodded dumbly.

'My most deepest apologies, Monsieur Wright, for this wicked girl's actions earlier. And I'd also like to thank you.'

Nick lifted his head.

'You saved me, Monsieur Wright. That horrible man Tiger was chasing me for money, and I couldn't do anything about it. If it kept on, who knows what he could have done to me...but you put him in jail, Monsieur Wright, and I can tell you, that lifted a great load off my shoulders.'

Nick stared at him.

'Do you know something called the Butterfly Effect, Mr Wright?' Viola said.

'The Butterfly...Effect?'

'It's a theory in which whenever a butterfly flaps its wings, a devastating tornado is generated on the other side of the world. But Mr Wright, you have to understand, there's an equal chance the butterfly will produce a cool breeze as well.'

Nick looked at the two of them, staring at him earnestly, and the tears threatened to break again. Without knowing it, he rushed forward and hugged Viola. Her figure was more warm than it looked, and he started crying again. To his surprise, Viola cried back, burying her face into his hair. Armstrong joined in soon after.

* * *

><p>After everything was over and done with, the tear ducts dried up, the restaurant cleared up, the noodles eaten, Nick felt he had overstayed his welcome. Furio Tigre wasn't here, and any more time he spent at Tres Bien was time wasted. His next target was Atmey. Though Nick had no idea where Atmey might have returned to after his release, he also knew Atmey's unusual appearance and even stranger personality wouldn't make him hard to find with a bit of research. He told Armstrong and Viola he had to leave.<p>

'You've changed a lot, Mr Wright,' Viola said.

'Y-yeah...' Nick said. 'Something happened.'

'Why are you looking for Don Tigre?'

_I can't get them involved, _Nick thought.

'I think he may be the suspect of a case I'm pursuing, but he may not, so...'

Viola nodded. 'If you see him again, if he even agrees to speak to you, could you pass on a message to him? Tell him I'm sorry.'

Armstrong flapped his arm in irritation. 'Don't mind her, Monsieur Wright, I can't understand her romance with that horrible man.'

'It's not romance!' Viola shot a glare at him.

'Calm down,' Nick said. 'You two are in this together. You two..' he bit his lip.

'...you two will be okay, right?' he finished weakly.

Their faces answered the question for him.

'Is..is there anything I can do to help?'

'You could pay for the meal,' Armstrong said hopefully.

Nick reached into his pocket, before remembering he wasn't wearing his old lawyer suit anymore. 'I'm sorry. I'll pay you back next time. I'll come back...and make things right, I promise.' he looked at the both of them. 'I'm sorry for everything.'

'It's not your fault, Mr Wright.' Viola said.

Nick gave her a small smile, and waved a hand in goodbye. He walked away from Tres Bien, not daring to look back. On the bus, he suddenly realised Viola hadn't promised him anything about not poisoning anyone. He wanted to go back, but the bus was already on its way, and he couldn't afford to waste any more time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'll respond to all the reviews once I'm finished. In the meantime, keep those reviews coming. I crave attention, good or bad.**

**This story recently turned out bigger and longer than I expected, so bear with me till the end. It's going to take a long time.**


	10. Intermission

'For the last time, Maya,' Miles gritted his teeth, seated behind his desk with his phone to his ear, 'You have to go to Kurain.'

'But what happened to Nick? Why are they arresting him?'

'I'm dealing with it. Go to Kurain. There's a train for it that leaves in half and hour.'

'What about Pearl? Where is she?'

'I - listen, Maya. If you said Nick wanted you to go somewhere safe, you should respect his wishes. I've already told Gumshoe to escort you there, so he'll be at the office in about ten minutes...'

'But Mr Edgeworth, what about you? Nick said - '

Miles placed the receiver firmly back into place, and put his hand on his head. He thought nothing more would surprise him when he had found out Nick had escaped, but, judging from his call earlier to Maya, Pearl's killer wasn't finished yet. He was the most dangerous kind of murderer - one with a vendetta.

Miles felt a headache coming on, and he turned to his Palm to distract himself. Three names pulsed malevolently on the screen. Furio Tigre. Luke Atmey. Matt Engarde. Three men that had their lives wrecked by Nick, three men with the means and the motive. Miles had already decided his first visit would be to Atmey. Both Tigre and Engarde were evil men, but Atmey was crazier than the rest. If any of the three of them would have the guts to slaughter Pearl in front of Nick, it would be Atmey.

A quick look at the court records told him Atmey's address. He slid on his jacket, fetched a fresh cravat, and walked out of his office.

He almost made it out, but when he passed the door of the Chief Prosecutor, a voice issued from the doorway, 'Mr Edgeworth. Give me a few minutes. We need to discuss something.'

Miles did a u-turn and trudged inside. Through the dim light he saw the wrinkled figure of the Chief Prosecutor glare at him from behind a spotless desk. 'Mr Edgeworth. I'll keep this brief. You've been raising hell about the arrest for Phoenix Wright these past few days, and I've listened patiently for what it's worth. I've just finished reading the email you sent me, and, to be quite frank...'

Miles already knew what was coming. He hadn't been that optimistic in the first place.

'...the scenario you've laid out doesn't hold up. Wright tells you there's another killer, but only he was there. There's no trace of a second man having entered the scene at all.'

'The rain would have washed away everything...' Miles mumured.

'Regardless, the possibility of a second man is quite low. Wright hasn't even given us a description, for christ's sake. Unless you have any hard evidence, I'm afraid Wright will remain as guilty as ever.'

'I understand,' Miles growled. He himself had sniffed around the park for witnesses the other day, but no matter how many people he questioned, he couldn't find a single one had seen anyone enter the park that night other than him, Pearl, and Wright.

The Chief peered at him closely. 'Edgeworth. I've known you several years now, and you're all and all quite a rational man. Without evidence, there is no murderer. Surely you of all people understand that.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Don't you yessir me. You're not convinced, are you?' And before Miles could reply, the Chief leaned forward, pinning Edgeworth into place with his narrow eyes. 'Just drop it, Edgeworth. This isn't like you. You're just chasing ghosts.'

'I understand, sir.'

'No, you don't. Anyway, as should be obvious to you, I won't allow you to prosecute or defend this case, neither will I tolerate any misuse of resources.'

_It's as bad as I feared, _Miles thought miserably. _I was too rash._

'That's all, Edgeworth. I wish you good luck for your future cases.'

He settled back into his chair, dismissing Miles with a curt nod. Miles left, and walked towards the carpark with his head hanging low. _So now I'm chasing ghosts? _he thought ruefully.

His headache was worse then ever.

* * *

><p>'Attention, please. The train at Platform A will be arriving in ten minutes.'<p>

Gumshoe listened to the voice with relief. 'Did you hear that? We'll be out of here in a few minutes.'

'Hooray,' Maya grumbled. She sat with her arms folded on the bench, sulking.

'I'm sorry, Maya. But I'm sure Pearl and Mr Nick are alright.'

'How do you know?'

'I just know!' Gumshoe forced a huge grin. Maya was nonplussed.

'I can't believe I'm just sitting here when they could be dead by now.'

'I told you, didn't I? They're alright! Just relax!'

'You're really bad at this, aren't you?'

'A-at what?'

She glared at him. 'Trying to make me feel better like this. What's going on?'

'Well, erm,' Gumshoe looked away awkwardly. 'Nothing's going on! Don't worry, Maya!'

In truth, he had already heard about Pearl. The thought of Pearl having the back of her head blown out had stranded him in the toilet for a full half-hour. Even now, he felt sickened, and tried for something to distract not only Maya but himself.

'Let's change benches,' he said.

'Again? It's only ten minutes until the train arrives!'

'Maya, Mr Edgeworth told me we're in danger! We have to confuse the enemy! If we slip up, you could get killed, and Mr Nick wouldn't want that!'

'You're being ridiculous, Gummy!'

Gumshoe got up and grabbed her arm, gently tugging her along.

'I don't want you to die,' Gumshoe said. Peal's face rose up in his mind, horribly bloodstained, and he felt sick again.

They moved to a bench on the other side of the station, and sat there, both currently incapable of conversation.

'I'm hungry,' Maya said after a while.

Gumshoe thought he could never summon the strength to eat ever again, but he felt his call to duty. 'I'll get something to eat. Follow me.'

'What?'

'I can't leave you out of my sight! Mr Edgeworth said - '

'Okay, okay, fine.'

They wandered around the station, looking for something to eat. They didn't have to look far. A man with a sandwich board wrapped around his body was selling a few bottled drinks and sandwiches.

'Thanks for that,' the man said, as Gumshoe paid for a bottle of mineral water and two ham sandwiches. 'I' don't usually get customers here. You two a couple, by any chance?'

It took a while for them to realise what he was talking about. Maya was the first to figure it out, and her face flushed instantly. 'N-no, nothing like that...'

The screeching sound of a train docking into the station reached their ears. 'Attention, please. The train at platform A has arrived and will depart in five minutes.'

'L-let's go, Maya,' Gumshoe said, although this time he didn't grab her arm. The two of them walked silently to the train, and boarded it, leaving the city behind them.


	11. Fear

Once again, Nick had hit a roadblock. He had reached the city square, and had found it was practically choked with people. Bodies jostling everywhere, the air filled with several conversations at once - Nick realised that with the sheer number of people gathered here, the odds of him being recognised had shot up.

Still, without a crowd, he would never find people to ask about Atmey. He stood in the middle of the sea of people, pondering on what to do, and then he saw two policeman walking towards him.

Their faces were as stony as the previous two. They could even have been the same ones. Nick tensed, preparing to run, but realised they weren't looking directly at him. They hadn't seen him, but they were walking towards him.

His brain was screaming at him to run, but Nick stuck his hands firmly inside his coat, and started to walk away as naturally as he could. A wall of people battered their way past him. He risked a glance back, and to his dismay he saw the police were still heading in the same direction as he was.

_Could they have recognised me?_

His hands were sweating. He took them out, wiped them, and put them back in their pockets. Should he turn around? Would that be suspicious? Should he run? Whilst contemplating he suddenly found himself in front of the city's bulletin board.

There was a poster on the board. Something about dogs. Nick moved as close to it as he dared, and stared at it. He didn't dare look back. Out of the corner of his eye he became aware of another man next to him, reading a different poster on the board. Nick was could dimly make out that the man was wearing a beanie. The man with the beanie was tapping his foot and humming. The man with the beanie might turn his head, see Nick's face and scream bloody murder. Nick tried not to look at the man with the beanie.

Two sets of footsteps stopped behind him. Nick kept his eyes on the poster, glaring at it with such force as if it might suck him in.

'Sir, could you please move?'

At first Nick thought it was being addressed to him, but instead it was the man with the beanie who moved. Someone else took his place, someone else wearing blue uniform. Nick didn't move his head an inch.

'What's all this?' someone else said. Nick assumed it was the man with the beanie.

'He escaped just this morning, sir,' the policeman was spreading something out on the board, and methodically stapling it into place. Nick could see the fingers of his hand creeping closer to the corner of his vision. 'If you see him, sir, let us know.'

Nick didn't move. His head was mired into gazing at the poster. The policeman finished stapling, and withdrew his hand.

'What's with that haircut, though? Wait - I know him. Don't tell me he's the attorney Phoenix Wright?'

'He murdered a eleven year old girl, sir.'

'What? Him? Murder?'

'Yes, sir.'

There was a rustling sound, presumably the man with the beanie caressed the sheet of paper the policeman had put up. 'Wow. Well, I guess it's true what they say - you can't trust lawyers.'

'Very funny, sir.'

The blue figure withdrew, and Nick heard two sets of footsteps moving away from him. Still, he kept his feet rooted to the ground. A minute, he decided, he would wait a full minute before moving. The man with the beanie resumed his original position, humming, and looking at the board.

Thirty seconds passed. The man with the beanie hadn't moved, and neither had Nick. The crowd milled around them. Nick knew the man with the beanie could recognise him anytime. He decided to risk it. He turned away from the man in the beanie and started to walk away.

And then a head leaned in and that terrible soft voice whispered into his ear.

'Enjoying your gift, Mr Wright?'

Nick whirled round. The beanie was thrust into his face, blinding him, and he ripped it off.

The space in front of the board was empty. All Nick could see was the crowd.

'Wha - 'Nick looked around wildly. Everyone looked exactly the same. He stared at them, the beanie unfolding uselessly in his hands.

'Hey,' he said to a random passer-by. 'Hey!'

The woman took off her earphones. 'Can I help you?'

Nick held out the beanie and shook it in her face. 'There was a man. He was wearing this. He was here. Did you see him?'

'Sorry, I -'

'Did you see who it was? Did you see his face?'

'No...' She frowned at him, and then her eyes caught sight of the notice board, and the wanted poster tacked on top of it.

Nick didn't wait for her reaction. He hurled himself back into the crowd, shielding himself with tangible bodies, and walked away from the square. He felt like throwing up. He needed to contact Maya...and Edgeworth...and everyone...and he wanted to get away as fast as possible.

* * *

><p>As soon as he had thrown himself into a quiet corner of the street, he took out his phone and began dialing Maya's number.<p>

To his relief, she answered almost immediately. 'Nick? Is that you? I -'

He hung up and dialed Miles's number. He got him on the first ring.

'Wright!' Miles said. 'I've been trying to reach this number, but you haven't been answering - '

'I left the phone off. Listen, Edgeworth, where's Maya?'

'I sent her off to Kurain with Gumshoe. The train left about ten minutes ago.'

'And where are you?'

'On the way to Atmey's.'

'What - Edgeworth, I thought I told you to get out of the country - '

'Come on, Wright,' Miles's voice sounded infuriatingly calm. 'I can't leave you alone.'

'You're in danger, Edgeworth. He just appeared - Pearl's killer. He was standing right next to me and I didn't notice. He's playing a game, Edgeworth - '

'What? When was this - '

' - and he's good at it. If you - '

'Wright,' Miles said firmly. 'You're a wanted man, in case you haven't noticed. Turn yourself in.'

'What?' Nick felt his frustration rising. 'I thought you were trying to help me - '

'I am,' Mile cut in. 'We've got to do things by the book, Wright. Go back to the detention center, and I'll make sure I get you off the hook, but if you just keep evading the police it'll only get worse.'

'No way. I've got stuff to do.'

'You're in no position to handle this!'

Nick suddenly realised Miles wasn't going to give in. 'Neither are you.'

'You're as stubborn as ever, Wright.

'And so are you, Edgeworth.'

'Touche.'

And then, out of nowhere, Nick laughed. He didn't know why, but he had laughed. Talking to Edgeworth, hearing his signature mellow voice after so long, had provided him a brief window of happiness, even as he argued with him.

'What was that, Wright? Did you just chuckle?'

'Erm, yeah.'

'Well, stop that! This isn't funny. Turn yourself in, Wright.'

'Nope. Thanks for everything. Stay safe, okay?'

'Wright! You have no money, no food, no housing, and everyone's hunting you...you need to - '

Nick switched of the phone and thrust it into his pocket as deep as he could. He had to wait for their conversation to evaporate in his mind, before he was able to think.

Finding Atmey was obviously harder than he had expected, multiplied by the fact that he was a wanted man. He just didn't have the resources. Besides, Miles was already chasing that lead for him. There was something else he could do, though, dreaded as it was.

The park. As much as Nick loathed to go back there, to experience the remnants of the terror he had felt that night, he knew there would be clues at the crime scene. There always were. One of Mia's favourite proverbs used to be that everything short of ghost always left evidence of its existence.


	12. Tasteless

Atmey's house was, quite literally, a mansion. It towered over all the other residences in the neighbourhood, its spotless appearance boasting the owner's wealth. Upon his arrival, Miles had to blink for a minute before he actually got out of the car.

As he got closer, he saw a police car parked by the side of the road, its lights still flashing. Miles frowned at it, and that was when the mansion doors burst open, and a crowd of police officers stormed out, holding a man in a suit tightly between them.

'Fools!' the man with the suit cried, thrusting his body about like a dying fish. 'Fools! Don't you buffoons know how much this suit costs?'

The man's flap of yellow hair and beak like nose was unmistakable. It was Luke Atmey.

'I'd advise you to remain quiet, sir,' one of the policeman said to him. 'Everything you say can and will be used against - '

Miles ran up to them. 'I'm Miles Edgeworth,' he said 'Prosecutor. Where are you taking this man?'

The policeman studied him for a few moments, before speaking. 'Sir. We're taking him into custody.'

'Why?'

'He's committed a murder, sir.'

'What? You mean for the second time?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I need to speak with him.'

'Prosecutor!' Atmey gasped at him. 'You understand, right? Tell these apes not to grip the sleeves so lightly. It ruins the texture...'

'We have to take him into custody immediately, sir. Police procedure.'

'I'll come with you. Just let me know as soon as he's avaliable.'

'That may not be possible, sir, but I'll see what i can do.'

They bundled up Atmey, still shrieking and protesting, into the police car, and drove off. Miles got into his own car and followed them.

* * *

><p>He waited in the lobby of for a long time, with his legs crossed and his foot tapping impatiently. To his dismay, Atmey had been deposited in Coldhearst Prison, an institution which housed those already doomed by the courts. He wondered if he was wasting time. If Atmey was the killer, he wouldn't be any threat now, but if he wasn't...Miles wanted to make sure.<p>

He was just about to get up and leave, when a guard poked his head from a nearby door. 'Mr Edgeworth? You wanted to see Mr Atmey?'

'Yes,' Miles nodded.

'Come with me, sir.'

Miles followed him through the door, and along a small corridor. The lighting here was darker and greyer than the lobby or even the Detention Center. Through the dim light Miles could see the paint peeling.

'You'll have to see Mr Atmey in his cell, sir.'

'Don't you have a visitor section?'

'It's full up right now, sir.'

A few turns later down the withered looking corridors, both of them emerged into a row of cells, three on each side of the room.

'Keep yourself away from the bars, sir.'

'I know that.'

They walked to the very end. On the second cell on the left, Miles saw the first criminal. He was sitting on his bed, in a lotus pose, having lifted his head at their arrival. He had a long stitch running down the middle of his face, and looked Miles straight in the eye. His gaze, although silent, burned with an intangible malice, that accused them of being outside the bars while he was trapped behind them. Miles looked away.

'Finally,' a deep voice groaned in the opposite cell. 'Hey, old man, get me something to drink, will you?'

'Be quiet,' the guard said, stopping in front of the cell next to the man with the stitch. Luke Atmey was inside, sitting on the bed, his back to them. 'Here you go, sir. That's Prisoner 626, the one you want.'

'Thank you. Could you leave?'

'But sir, I'm required to remain here - '

'The Prosecutor's office will take responsibility,' Miles said. He knew, instinctively, that if Atmey was the killer, if he was going to tell Miles anything, it wouldn't be in the presence of the police. 'I need to talk to Atmey alone, please.'

After a while, the guard nodded, and left. Miles was left alone in the darkened cell block, with surrounded by criminals.

'Hey...' the man with the deep voice murmured again. He was lying sprawled across the bunk, his eyes closed. 'Hey...Mr Prosecutor...get me something hot to drink...'

Miles ignored him, and peered through the bars of Atmey's cell. The former Ace Detective was staring at the wall, and seemed to be contemplating something.

'Mr Atmey?' Miles said.

Atmey whispered something, and Miles leaned forward to hear.

'Mr Atmey? Did you say something?'

'...ools...'

'What was that?'

Atmey sprung off the bed and whirled round .'FOOLS!' he shouted into Miles's face. 'Fools, all of them! Mr Prosecutor, surely you understand? A civilised man like myself, spending my time in a pigsty like this? unforgivable, I say, unforgivable!'

Miles blinked. 'Mr Atmey - '

'And all I did was defend my home from a deranged lunatic! And then they carted me off to jail again like some commoner! Even after I pulled my daring escape, they actually took the effort to track me down and put me back! Honestly, this country is going to the dogs!'

'Mr Atmey - '

It was no use. Atmey was beyond reason, jumping around his cell like an exited puppy. 'You understand my plight, Mr Prosecutor? You see? This is what happens in a democratic country. We have to lead a revolt! Mr Prosecutor, let us change the legal system together! Revolutionize - '

The man with the deep voice coughed loudly. Both men instinctively and unwillingly turned to look at him.

'If that's why you're so riled up, Atmey...' the man said slowly, 'you'd best stay in your cell.

Atmey's face turned red. 'What? A horrid, horrid injustice was done to me. How can you say - '

'Injustice is one of the elements that make up the world,' the man said. He slowly sat up, and slid off the bunk. 'While the seasons change, cities spring up and the unstoppable river of time flows around us, the only foothold, the only unchanging rock in this sea of chaos, our only anchor, is injustice.

Even Miles had to admit that sounded a tad melodramatic.

'That's just the way of life, Atmey, the final sentence descended upon us by God himself. We can't fight it, we can only be tagged alone for the ride. But,' the man walked up to the bars, 'If there's one thing that's unfair in this world, it's that for all the people in this place, no one bothers to bring me...a nice...hot...cup of coffee.'

The man came into the light. Miles squinted at him, a name tugging at the faint corners of his memory. 'You're Diego Armando,' he said.

Armando inclined his head slightly. 'It's been while since anyone called me that, Mr Prosecutor.'

'Silence!' Atmey crowed at him. 'Mr Prosecutor is what _I _call him.'

Armando shrugged, and looked at Miles. 'Apparently, he got off early because he had Schizophrenia or something...'

'I do!'

'...and then he goes out and commits another murder. Ends up here, escapes, and ends up here again. I could write a book about our friend Luke Atmey.'

'I'll be the one writing my biographies, thank you very much!' Atmey spat. 'Mr Prosecutor, listen up! Here is the ballad of the Ace Detective Luke Atmey!'

Miles looked at him, looked at Armando, and looked back at Atmey. 'What?' he said helplessly.

Atmey crouched, and began creeping across the floor, like a cat. 'Our tale begins just last year, when I was released from this horrid place. I went back to my mansion, ready to start over a new life. For a few months I bided my time, watching, waiting for a chance to regain my glory. And then - !'

He frog-leaped to a corner of the cell, pouncing at an invisible object. Miles jumped.

'And then a burglar trespassed onto my quarters! Luckily for my silverware I was present at the time, and caught him red-handed! He attacked me, and I valiantly defended myself. And, my word, it was a fight to behold.' Atmey's eyes glazed over as he recalled the scene. 'The villain grabbed the poker by my fireplace and stabbed my face with it! I reeled back, but it was only a facade, for I was only reaching for my bottle of whiskey at the corner! I smashed the bottle over his head, spraying him with alcohol, and then I kicked him straight into the fireplace!'

'He was consumed by fire instantly, and he screamed like a dog. I took the poker from him and I - and I - ' Atmey licked his lips, his eyes rolling around crazily. 'I bashed his head in. It was wonderful, really, the way his skull burst open like a bubble when I smacked it. The blood flew from his head like a fountain, and, when the poker was bent out of shape, I was forced to resort to using my hands.'

Through the dim light, Miles could see the sweat shine on Atmey's huge grin. 'It was terribly messy, Mr Prosecutor, and yet curiously satisfying. I got bits of his brain all over the suit and splattered some of it on the walls, and some even got into my mouth - but really, the fellow deserved it, trespassing on my home like that - '

'Schizophrenia.' Armando remarked drily, 'Is quite a problem for most people.'

Luckily, Atmey didn't seem to hear that last comment, and continued his tale. 'Turns out, the villain I had struck down was an escaped criminal! Well, I can tell you I was as plucky as peacock when I found that out, and I was priding myself on yet another valuable contribution to the pillar of society, when they hauled me off and put me on trial! Unforgivable! I'd done their job for them, but they carted me off to the prison as if I was an criminal! Really, the law these days is certainly skewed...'

'But then - ! I spat in the faces of those soul-sucking bureaucrats! I escaped from this hellhole, and returned to my mansion to live out the rest of my days in quiet solitude.'

'Which is the first place anyone would look for you...' Armando added.

'Silence!' screeched Atmey. 'Those miserable dogs caught me and dumped here once again - ! And now, you see a broken man, his spirit crushed, his ambitions vanquished, a victim of the Liberal Agenda...'

'The difference between me and you, Atmey...' Armando murmured. 'Is that my philosophical tangents actually make sense.'

Miles cast alternating stares at the both of them, at a complete loss on how to react to this exchange of madness.

'You see what I have to put up with, Mr Prosecutor?' Armando sighed.' Take from me, living in this dump isn't all roses like they say in the books.'

Atmey collapsed onto the floor, and lay there, breathing hard for no apparent reason. Miles wisely decided he would ignore Atmey for a while, and he turned to Armando.

'If I remember correctly, you were the one who committed the murder of Misty Fey.'

'That's right, Mr Prosecutor.'

'Why are you still in here? The last I heard, Wright was appealing to get you out.'

Armando stretched his arms, and walked back to his bed before answering. 'The cell next to me was owned by quite an rude fellow. Matt Engarde, I think that was his name. He got out a week, ago, while I stayed here. Apparently the demand for the Steel Samurai was enough to completely abolish his crimes. Wish I was that lucky.'

'Mr Armando...'

'But what can I say? Injustice rules the world,' Armando collapsed onto his bed, and put his hands over his eyes. 'You have no idea how happy I am, Mr Prosecutor, that you called me by my name. These days, I'm beginning to wonder if I even exist.'

His leg dangled over the cot limply. 'Day in, day out, nothing but sleep, meals, thinking, meals, sleep. Like I've been tossed into a mug and stirred and stirred and stirred until nothing's left. And the coffee doesn't taste of anything, either.'

'Wright said he was visiting you...'

'For a while. But the visits became shorter and shorter, until one day he just completely forgot about me. I don't blame him. We're in different worlds. He doesn't have the scar, but I do.' Armando vaguely indicated the deep wound across his face, a souvenieur of that horrible night in the mountains.

Miles didn't know what to say. As he looked at the ragdoll-like figure on the bed, he felt a pang of sympathy.

'I wish they'd hurry up and kill me already,' Armando said. 'Living in a world where no-one calls you by your name...is hell itself...'

His voice drifted off, and he remained silent. Miles thought he had fallen asleep. He stood contemplating the sad figure for a while.

'Ahem,' Atmey said.

Miles wearily looked at him.

'Now that that hypocrite's sob story is over and done with, Mr Prosecutor, I must ask - why did you want to see me in the first place?'

Miles was abruptly brought back to earth. 'Ah - yes. I want to question you on you whereabouts at - '

'Hold on,' Atmey said, and struck a pose. Miles gaped at him.

'Mr Prosecutor, you, like all those other soul sucking bureaucrats, are disgustingly predictable. Why, even he said you would use these exact words!'

'What in the world are you talking about?'

Atmet leaned back against the wall, his form blending in with the darkness. 'I'm talking about the man you're looking for, Mr Prosecutor.'

Miles stared at him, and then moved closer, completely forgetting about the guard's earlier warning. 'What do you say?'

'I don't even know how he found me...' Atmey said, idly picking at a spot on his suit. 'But, really, he's a sharp one, _almost _at my level...'

'Tell me what you mean!'

Atmey took his time before responding. 'He knew you would come here, Mr Prosecutor. He knew I would get captured, and knew you would speak to me. He asked me to deliver a message for you.'

Miles leaned forward, so that his nose was almost touching the bars. 'W-what was the message?'

Atmey grinned, relishing in the suspense. 'Well..' he announced dramatically... 'I'm not telling you.'

'What?'

'At least, not right now. But of course...for a price.'

'What - ack - Atmey...'

'I'm - not -telling' Atmey sang, 'Unless you do something for me!'

Whatever the culprit had told Atmey, no matter how irrelevant it may have turned out to be, it was a glimmer in a sea of dead ends. Miles grasped at it. 'Tell me what you want, Atmey.'

'Okay,' Atmey said, and then darted forwards, so that the two of them were almost nose to nose.

'I want you to break me out of prison,' said Atmey.


	13. Intermission II

Miles reeled back from the bars in shock. 'What?'

'I'm just told you. I want you to help me escape, Mr Prosecutor. A genius though I am, every con requires an inside man - '

'No,' Miles said.

'Then I'm afraid I'm not telling you your message. Oh, and by the way, I know where and who the man you're looking for is.'

'You're bluffing.'

'My heart bleeds, Mr Prosecutor! You're just like the rest of them, blind robots just following the assembly line, tut-tut! Anyway, I don't belong here. All I did was kill an escaped criminal, and let's face it, I made the world a better place by doing that.'

Miles glared at him. 'Goodbye, Mr Atmey.'

'Oh, come on! What about him?' Atmey pointed to the snoring figure of Armando. 'I bet you don't think he deserves to be in here, don't you? Then set him free, and oh, while you're at it break me out as well.'

Miles gritted his teeth, but said nothing. In the deadlock that followed, a serene voice floated out from the next cell. 'Excuse me.'

It was the man with the stitch, the first prisoner Miles on seen upon his arrival. 'Excuse me?' he said again. 'Are you organising an escape attempt? May I join?'

'No,' Miles said. He turned to Atmey. 'If the law says you belong here, you belong here. Goodbye. I'm sorry I wasted my time.'

He spun stiffly on his heel and walked out the the cell block, ignoring Atmey's protests. Soon he was back in the light of the lobby.

* * *

><p>Nick stood in the center of the moist grass, his hands in his pockets, contemplating the shelter in front of him. It was the exact same spot he had been standing on that rainy night. This was the place where his life had been - in a blackly ironic sense - turned around. He suddenly wondered if he had been dreaming this whole while, and that he would wake up any moment now just in time to celebrate his birthday.<p>

He heard the crunch of feet on grass, and twisted round. An old woman was walking towards the shelter. Nick quickly turned his head away.

After a moment he noticed the woman had stopped right in front of him. He turned to face her. She was staring at him.

_Had he been recognised?_

He did his best to flash a polite smile. 'I'm sorry, can I help you?'

She smiled back. 'Oh, I'm sorry if I disturbed you, young man, but that hat you're wearing...'

Nick unconsciously reached up to grasp it. 'You know this beanie?'

'Yes...and I was wondering...did you get there from someone?'

Nick put two and two together. 'Do - ' he gulped. 'Do you know the man who wore this beanie?'

'Why, yes. Do you?'

'S-sort of. I'm looking for him, actually. If you can tell me anything about him, I would very much appreciate it.'

Her stare, built up by years of experience and wisdom, made him feel small. He waited for her to speak.

'He said someone like you would come one day...' she whispered. Abruptly, she turned around, and began to walk in the opposite direction.

'H-hey, where are you - ?'

'It's going to be a long story, young man, and unless you want to spend the night here, I'd suggest you come over to my place for dinner.'

Nick realised two things at once. First, that his sense of time had regained and he was suddenly aware it was near nightfall, second, he was absolutely famished. The old woman stopped, waiting for him. Nick followed her.

* * *

><p>Her apartment was small, cramped and in a general state of disrepair. It reminded Nick of his college days, except much, much worse. Despite this however, the old woman managed to whip up a pot of steaming warm porridge. It was a simple meal, made with rice, carrots, and diced chicken. It was also the best meal Nick had ever had in his life.<p>

As he licked the last grain out of the bowl, the old woman asked, 'Are you finished eating?'

'Yes, thank you. That was really good.'

She smiled at the compliment, and reached out to take the bowl.

'Sorry, but, I feel kinda guilty eating your food like that. Mind if I wash up myself?'

Without waiting for a reply, he took his bowl to the sink and switched on the tap. There was no soap, but he made do. As he scrubbed, the terror from the previous morning slowly evaporated in his mind. He was in someone's house, washing dishes - an action perfectly peaceful.

He finished washing up, and looked back at the old woman. She had been staring at him for a long time.

'What is it?'

She shook her head slightly. 'It's just that...you were a lot like him. He stood in the exact same spot as you did, wearing that exact same hat, just washing the dishes...'

Nick gruffly placed the bowl to the side, and sat down next to her. 'Tell me everything you know about him.'

'You sound distressed.'

'Sorry, but I am. The man I'm looking for - he - he - '

'Put your justifications aside, young man, and listen. I have a story to tell - his story. He wanted it told, and I will tell it. Listen well.'

Nick looked at the woman's solemn face, and nodded. In the midst of the steam that gently wafted from the pot of warm porridge, the old woman began her tale.


	14. Story

It was two weeks since the man came to my apartment. You might chide my foggy memory, old as it is, but my time with him is as sharp as a razor. He first came on the day I had tried to experiment with a new recipe of mine - boiled chicken with potatoes. Now I'm not much of a cook, and I'm getting feeble in my old age, and the next thing I knew the stove had caught fire. There was smoke everywhere and I was paralysed with panic, and then he came, swooped in like a knight of shining armour, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over the flames. That was the only time I saw his face, I think - and for the life of me I can't remember what it was. I fainted after that - things shock you much more if you're an old woman like yourself.

When I came to, I was lying on the bed and he was on his knees scrubbing away the last of the mess. While I was unconscious he had put this mask on, one of those asian ones with swirly colorful patterns, and all. Oh, and of course, he had the beanie you're wearing right now stuck on his head. After he had cleared up I thanked him, and in no uncertain terms told him he had just saved my life.

He asked me whether he could stay with me for a while, as due to 'unforeseen circumstances' he didn't have anywhere else to go, and he asked quite politely too. Naturally, I accepted his offer. It was the least I could do for my saviour, after all.

He stayed with me quietly for a few days. When I went out to sell cigarettes - that's all I can do now - he stayed at home, sweeping the floor, washing up, and every time I returned I could lean in my chair and give a giant sigh of satisfaction at my fresh looking home. He never acknowledged his work for me, not even once.

He was a quiet and polite boy, really, and despite my repeated attempts he refused to sleep on the sofa, and instead always lay down on the floor, like an loyal and earnest Golden Retriever. The first sign that he was a strange one, however, came when I asked him why he wore a mask. And do you know what he said?

'You can't see my face behind this mask. I have no face. I'm a ghost.'

Those were the only words he spoke to me after a while. And yet, it was strangely pleasant to have him around. I'd often ramble on about various things to him at the end of the day, politics, business, poverty, everything. He always looked like he was listening closely, although he never uttered a word. Nobody listens to me these days. Who would? I'm a senile, useless old woman. Or, as those socialists would put it, I'm a broken cog in an otherwise fully functioning machine. So you understand, I liked having him around.

However, it wouldn't be long when I began to wonder why he was staying here. I asked him lots of questions, of course, but he never answered them. I was beginning to think that he would remain silent forever, but then, the first outburst came.

I was rambling to him one evening as usual, but this time, I was talking about the law system. It had recently appeared on the news that the government was planning on implementing a new jurist system, and I was raving on how judgement would be more fair and all that, and that the government finally was wising up, and then he spoke in that quiet voice of his.

'Where is your abalone?'

I had been talking him the other day about abalone, you see, reminiscing about its juicy taste it had left in my mouth ten years ago, and was lamenting on how I couldn't afford it like I used to. And he had suddenly brought that up now, and I was confused.

'The jurist system will fail,' he continued without missing a beat.

'How can you say that?' I answered. 'You haven't seen it yet.'

'If a man falls twenty storeys and is about to hit the ground, will you deny his death just because you haven't seen it yet?'

His voice was curt, and I found myself replying with a layer of hostility.

'Yes. I would deny that. It hasn't happened yet, and we might as well have a little faith.'

'Then, you have faith in the jurist system?'

'Yes.'

'Which also means you have faith in our government, correct?'

'Of course.'

'Then, let me ask you this again: where is your abalone?'

He left my speechless with that statement. After a while he got up and left, and never mentioned it to me again.

The second outburst happened just one week after I had met him. I had returned home one day to find him slumped on the sofa, his head hanging down. He seemed extraordinarily depressed, and I asked him what was the matter.

'I can't remember her face,' he whispered.

'Who? Whose face?'

'Her's,' he said simply. Judging from his tone and posture, I surmised he was talking about a lover, someone he cared for. Someone with all my years of experience can tell you that, you know.

'Where is she now?' I asked him gently.

'She's gone. But I can't remember my face, it just keeps slipping away from me - I can't - '

And then he turned away, refusing to say anymore. But although his mask was on, I could somehow sense...from his shaking shoulders...that he was crying.

He clearly didn't want me to interfere, so I remained tactful and let the matter pass as if nothing happened.

A few days passed, with everything acting as per normal, and then one day I made an offhand comment that if I couldn't afford abalone I was going to have to steal it. He stiffened very sharply at that, and looked at me sharply.

'Don't ever steal, please,' he said lightly.

I assured him that I wasn't going to, but he continued watching me carefully the whole night. It seemed he really thought I was serious. After a moment he marched out of the house.

He returned later with a can of abalone, and smacked it on the table, in full view of my eyes. As you can imagine, I was elated, but then suspicion dawned as I realised that he had no money on him.

'Where did you get this?'

'From the store.'

'Did you pay for it?'

'No...'

I was horrified, and wanted to return it. He said doing so would cause more trouble than it would be worth. I called him out on being a hypocrite, and he said,

'It doesn't matter about me. I have no face. But you, you still have a face, and if someone steals it, well, that would be quite unpleasant.'

In the end I didn't return the abalone. To do so, I would have to lie to the shopkeeper, in order to protect my young charge, and I wasn't up to that. It was amazing, really, that even in your old age there still are beliefs you can't cling on to. I didn't eat the abalone, though. I threw it in the trash, than washed my hands afterwards. He witnessed all my actions, but made no comment. I started acting frosty towards him, from that point on.

In response, he changed as well. He still swept the floors while I was away, but he thrust the broom with unnecessary force and started to care less and less about how thoroughly he washed the dishes. When I came back from work he was no longer there to greet me, but instead took to pacing around the house furiously in random intervals. It was clear something was troubling him, but I still couldn't bring myself to talk to him because of the abalone incident. So we barely spoke to each other. I started undercooking the porridge that we ate together at dinnertime.

It was the day before he left, when I found him standing in the park on my way home. He was surveying the grass as silently as the grave, and he asked me without turning round - he had barely given any indication he had known I was there, and I nearly died of fright - if it was true that there was going to be a downpour the next day, according to the weather forecast on the radio. I answered roughly, yes. He lifted his head at that, and we both entered my apartment together. I made an effort to cook the porridge more cleanly this time, and it was a good meal. We both ate it slowly in silence, savouring it.

Then he told me he was leaving soon. Despite everything, my heart dropped to the bottom of my chest when I heard that. He really was a good boy, like a lost sheep, and I had unconsciously been his herder. I asked him why he was leaving.

'I can not regain my face,' he said. 'It's quite impossible. So what I must do next is to pay a visit to the man who stole it.'

I pressed him further, but of course he didn't reply. Instead he said, 'Thank you for everything you've done for me. The porridge was delicious.'

He curled up on the floor and fell asleep immediately. I too crawled up into the couch, but it was a long time before I could fall into slumber.

That morning, I fixed him a simple breakfast, and he bid me goodbye. We exchanged last words, me sitting on the chair I had told him stories from, and him, in the doorway with his faceless mask. And then at that moment...I don't know how quite to describe it, but...I suddenly realised how he had changed...that his body had stiffened and all his movements were more forceful, and...he still retained his polite demeanour and everything, but...I sensed this brutish, this savage aura underneath the mask. And I suddenly wanted to rush forward and hug him and plead with him to stay. But the moment passed, and he was already jogging down the stairs. I called his name, but he didn't respond.

And that was when he left me, an old woman once again alone in her apartment.

* * *

><p>The pot of porridge had finally cooled down, and the old woman fell silent. It took a while for Nick to rouse himself, and realise that the tale was finished. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to make of all that.<p>

'I remember the last words he said,' she said. 'He said them very clearly, too. He said, "A man wearing my beanie might arrive at your apartment. When you do, tell him my story." '

She looked at him. 'You're Phoenix Wright, aren't you?'

He started violently, but she held up a hand. 'I'm not going to judge anyone, Mr Wright, at least not yet. All I want to know is this: did something happen in that park?'

Slowly, Nick nodded, feeling a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

'I..see. I don't know exactly what happened, but whatever did...I could have stopped him. Even as an old woman...'

She suddenly grasped his hand, wrapping it in a bony embrace. 'Now you have to stop him, Mr Wright. The hat you're wearing, and the one he had - I know where he bought it from. There's a shop at the corner of Windy Street, just five blocks down from Lordly Taylor. I saw that hat on that display many times, on my way home. It's a something small, but if you can gleam anything, anything from that shop, you may able to find him, and stop him.'

'I'll...I'll do my best,' Nick glanced at his watch. It was already nine pm, but the shop she had described had a good chance of still being open. 'Thanks.'

'You're not staying for the night? It's getting late, and you look like you could use some rest.'

'No, sorry...I can't waste any time.'

'You're going to catch a cold.'

'I didn't, the first time.'

She sighed, and brought her own bowl to the sink. 'You're pushing yourself too hard, Mr Wright. Sometimes we spend so much time chasing something in life we don't realise what we're actually chasing it for,' she smiled bitterly. 'Another hollow saying of an old woman, I'm afraid.'

'I need to find him.'

'What do you plan on doing to him once you do?'

The question derailed Nick's train of thought. He struggled to come up with an answer. 'I...I don't know,' he answered truthfully.

'Could you...use your good judgement? He was a polite young man, really.'

Nick didn't have an answer to that one. He got up, just as she finished the bowl and returned to her chair. 'Thanks for everything. I'll have to leave now, to find him.'

She was staring at him in that strange way again.

'What is it?'

'Oh, you seem so much like him. He stood there saying goodbye to me too, right there. And then he went and did a horrible thing. I hope you keep your judgement clear, Mr Wright.'

'I hope so too,' Nick said. 'I'll...I hope you can buy your abalone someday.'

She smiled. 'I always have a little faith with me, Mr Wright. I'll be fine.'

He parted from her then, and as he jogged down the steps, with a new lead in tow, the guilt which had been slowly curdling at the back of his mind began to push its way forward again.


	15. Gumshoe

_Four hours earlier_

As the train rumbled on its journey to safety, Gumshoe ushered Maya into the middle carriage. Maya picked a seat and the window, and sat, only for Gumshoe to jerk her away.

'What?'

'Don't stay near the windows! There might be a sniper!'

'Are you crazy?'

'We can't be too careful! Mr Edgeworth said - '

'Okay, fine. I'll sit in the middle, then.'

She did, and Gumshoe sat on the forbidden seat Maya had occupied moments before. He folded his arms and looked out of the window, watching the scenery flash by.

A man sat down next to Maya. He had a purple suit, long blond hair, and glasses. Gumshoe cast a dark look at him. 'Maya, let's change places.'

Maya, who had already resumed brooding over the fates of Nick and Pearl, was in no mood to protest. They switched seats. Now Maya was near the window again.

Gumshoe frowned at her, scratching her head. 'Wait...'

The man with the glasses said, 'I'm dreadfully sorry, am I bothering you?'

'Yeah, pal!' Gumshoe fumed, whirling round to glare at him. 'This girl here is in danger - '

'Gummy,' Maya sighed in exasperation.

' - and I'm not going to let anyone near here until we get off! So you'd better not touch her, understand?'

The man stared at him, blinking slowly. Then he broke into a smile and extended his hand. 'Forgive me, but these train rides do tend a get a little dull, and you seem like an interesting person to talk to. My name is Kristoph Gavin.'

'Weren't you listening, pal? I said - '

'Gummy!' Maya said sharply. Her voice lashed out like a whip-crack, and the tension deflated out of Gumshoe immediately. He stared down. Maya continued to look away from him, out of the window.

Gavin cleared his throat. 'Where are you two headed, may I ask?'

Gumshoe lifted his head slightly. 'That's the exact thing a killer would want to ask, pal!'

Kristoph smirked, and tossed back his mane of golden hair. 'I assure you, I'm not a killer. Quite the opposite, in fact. I'm a defense attorney.'

Gumshoe's face lit up. 'A lawyer? You mean like Mr Nick - I mean Phoenix Wright? Do you know him?'

'Oh, him?' Gavin grinned horribly, pushing up his glasses. 'That third rate attorney?'

Luckily, Gumshoe was already rattling on. 'If you're a lawyer, pal, you must have handled a lot of cases like Mr Nick!'

'Indeed I have.'

'Do you...like...shout Objection and stuff? And corner the suspect and expose all the lies, like Mr Nick?'

Gavin's eyes chilled slowly. 'Just out of curiosity, have you gone to college?'

'College?' Gumshoe beamed proudly. 'My dad said I don't need anything like that. I dropped out.'

'I could tell,' Gavin nodded. 'Excuse me. The poignant musings of Kant require my attention.'

'Huh?'

Gavin took out a book from his bag, and fixed his eyes onto its walls of text. Gumshoe stared at him for a while, then felt something rustling in his backpack. Maya was digging through it, searching for the ham sandwiches.

'Ah, let me get them for you, Maya...'

'No need.'

She found one, unwrapped it, but Gumshoe, with a desperate expression, swatted it out of her hand.

'What is it this time?'

'It might be poisoned, or something! The sandwich guy did seem pretty fishy - '

'I'm sure it's perfectly safe!' she went to get it, but Gumshoe scooped it out of her reach.

'Maya, Mr Edgeworth said - '

'Fine!' Maya exploded. 'If you like Mr Edgeworth so much, why don't you go back and go guard him instead? At least you - you won't be trying to starve me or anything - '

Gumshoe tried to block her out, and unwrapped a piece of the sandwich. He ripped off a piece, chewed, and waited for a few moments.

'Satisfied?' Maya growled, after he hadn't fallen to the floor convulsing. Gumshoe wordlessly handed the sandwich towards her.

'My, my,' a chuckle came from the corner. 'This man does seem rather attached to you, doesn't he? Like a loyal Labrador.'

Maya stared out of the window, giving no sign that she had heard.

'Of course,' Gavin ploughed on, 'The problem with Labradors, is that they're bred to obey. Not that you can blame them, really. That's all their minds are geared towards - obeying. I would almost feel sorry for them.'

He chuckled again. Gumshoe stared at him in confusion, having not completely understood.

Maya abruptly stood, tossing the half eaten sandwich back onto the seat. 'I'm going to the bathroom.' she announced abruptly.

'I'll follow you - '

He backed off at her scowl, and she used his hesitation to escape. Once Gumshoe had regained his senses, however, he hastened after her.

She had already gone into the bathroom and slammed the door shut by the time Gumshoe arrived. He threw himself against the door.

'Maya? You okay in there?'

'Yes!' she screeched from inside. 'Yes! Leave me alone!'

He looked uncertainly at the black door, and then sat down next to it. Maya was obviously unhappy, but he never had expected her to lash out at him to this extent, had never seen her this upset before. Worse still, he was completely helpless to do anything for her, as usual. He leaned against the door in utter defeat.

'Loyal as ever, I see.'

Gumshoe looked up to see Gavin standing over him.

'Ah, forgive me. I sometimes like to indulge my ego by establishing my superiority at times - a basic narcissistic trait of humanity, I'm afraid.'

'H-huh?'

Gavin shook his head gently, smiling to himself. 'She seems rather angry towards you, doesn't she?'

'Y-yeah...' Gumshoe glanced at the door. 'I want to help her, Mr Lawyer, but the thing is...I don't know how to.'

'I see. Any idea why she acts the way she does?'

'Well..I guess she's worried about Pearl and Nick...' Gumshoe said, almost to himself. 'I mean, I'm worried too, but Mr Edgeworth told me to go with Maya...'

'Why? What happened to them?'

'I don't really know...but Mr Edgeworth said something about a killer being after them...I dunno.'

'A killer?' Gavin smirked. 'You can't be serious.'

'It's true, pal! A cold blooded killer! But Mr Nick and Mr Edgeworth are probably working to bring him down at thsi very moment, pal!' Gumshoe looked into the distance, not so much speaking to Gavin as trying to reassure himself. 'Yeah. They're arrest him and expose all his lies in court. That all works out, I think. But Maya's still...unhappy...'

'Maybe that's because she knows a happy ending like that doesn't come easily.'

'It does,' Gumshoe said stubbornly. 'It's all happened before. Mr Nick always turns things around in the end.'

'I envy people like you sometimes, you know that?'

'Huh? Really?'

'Truly.'

'Thanks, Mr Lawyer.'

The door started to open, and Gumshoe instantly scrambled to his feet, standing at attention. Maya came out. Her face was wet.

She caught Gumshoe's look and hastily looked down. 'I...I was washing my face, okay?'

Gumshoe exhaled an audible sigh of relief. 'Well, let's just get back to our seats.'

A few seconds later, Maya was back at the window, her slanted eyes watching the world flash by. She couldn't really see anything clearly - the train was going too fast, hurtling all of them deeper into the unknown. She sighed and looked away.

'Erm, Maya...' Gumshoe said. 'You believe in Mr Nick, don't you?'

'Yeah...' Maya whispered.

'Then...believe in him.'

Maya turned around, and to Gumshoe's supreme relief, she was smiling. 'Yeah. I will. I - I'm sorry I treated you badly earlier.'

Gumshoe scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "No, it's my fault, really...I always mess up sentimental stuff like that.'

'No,' Maya said. 'I - I'm okay now.'

'Really? You're okay?' Gumshoe grinned hopefully.

'Y-yeah.'

'Come on! This better not be one of those things where you try to make me feel better but actually you're - '

'I'm really okay. Really. Thanks for everything.'

Gumshoe lit up like a Christmas tree, and turned away to hide his sudden blush. As a result, he didn't see Maya turn back to the window, and didn't see her smile fade once it was out of his vision. From the side, Gavin smirked into the dark prophecies of Kant.

* * *

><p>The end to their journey came sooner than expected. The train arrived at the desired station, where Gumshoe and Maya would travel to Kurain Village from there by bus.<p>

As they left, Gavin gave Gumshoe a small wave.

'It's contradictory, really,' he said, 'How you can despise yet symphatise with a certain kind of person at the same time.'

'Huh?'

'Oh nothing. Good luck.'

Then they were alone, surrounded by the rest of the crowd tumbling out of the train. Gumshoe grabbed Maya by the hand and started to lead her along the train tracks towards the exit. He was in a good mood. Kurain was in sight, and Maya was perfectly intact. Plus, she had thanked Gumshoe herself, acknowledging that he, himself, had cheered her up.

A ravenous hunger suddenly struck him, and he dug into his backpack for the second ham sandwich. Dimly, he remembered an hour earlier feeling the exact opposite, but he couldn't recall why, and he didn't care anyway. he stuffed it into his mouth, washing it down with a bottle of mineral water.

'I've never been to Kurain before,' he said cheerfully to Maya. 'There'll be temples and things there, right? Like the Buddhists!'

Maya slowly turned her head to him. 'Yeah...' She slowly rotated her neck back to the floor. Gumshoe was too pumped to notice.

'This'll all be over soon, Maya,' he said, warming to his role as comforter. 'Mr Nick and Mr Edgeworth, when they work together, oh boy, you can be sure they'll catch the bad guy pretty fast!'

The crowd continued to surge around them, and the train hooted impatiently, ready to continue its wild journey. Slowly, it began to move. Maya barely noticed. She was thinking about Nick, Pearl, Edgeworth, and of course Gumshoe. Maybe she was being fair on him. She lifted her head to talk to him, although she had no idea what she was going to say. 'Gummy - '

Gumshoe wasn't there.

She looked around in confusion, and had time to glimpse his wide green figure on the tracks, before the train barrelled over it.

She stared at the rumbling carriages. It took her a minute to comprehend what she had just seen. And when she finally understood, she opened her mouth and screamed.


	16. Descent

By the time Miles returned to the Prosecutor's office, the sky had turned a dull black and cold wind stung at his cheeks. He didn't like the cold. That rainy night was as cold as this. Brushing it off, he entered the lobby, but before he could make it to his office he was once again caught by the voice of the Chief Prosecutor.

'Mr Edgeworth!' the Chief said, strolling towards him. He skipped the pleasantries. 'I understand you visited Mr Atmey a few hours ago.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And that you used - mishandled your authority to make sure no one was at the scene when you questioned him.'

'Yes, sir.'

'And you find nothing wrong with this? Didn't I tell you to leave it alone?'

'With all due respect, sir, I don't believe whatever I am doing will reach the press. I'm being very discreet.'

'You're just chasing a ghost, Edgeworth!' he repeated.

'I don't think so, sir.'

'That's how it starts, Edgeworth. Believe me, at the rate you're going you'll end up like Payne.'

Miles winced. The tragically monstrous ballad of Winston Payne, the way he had descended into cocaine addiction and drinking, cultivating in a hit-and-run which had banished him from the normal world forever, was a dark stain on the Prosecutor's office. No one talked about the subject. It was a strict taboo everyone wanted to forget about. The very fact that the Chief had spoke Payne's name meant he was serious

'I knew Payne long before you did. He was an arrogant fellow. The trouble with people like them as that they climb so high there's nothing to save them when they fall down.'

'I know what, I'm doing, sir. There's a difference between us.'

'And what's that?'

'I aim to bring justice, sir.'

Miles's phone rang, and he grabbed it. 'Er, excuse me sir, someone's calling me.'

He turned around and walked away without waiting for a dismissal. He pressed the phone to his ear.

'Maya? I told you not to call - '

Her voice was hysterical, rising higher and tumbling over his easily. He listened to her. And then his eyes went wide and he dropped the phone. It broke into pieces onto the floor. Miles didn't care.

* * *

><p>Atmey woke from his troubled dreams to footsteps pounding down the corridor. He sat up, blinking, trying to see past the dim light. Armando was still in his bed, and in the cell next to his, De Killer was as silent as always.<p>

The footsteps jumped nearer, and suddenly Miles Edgeworth was at the cell door, his bangs covering his eyes in dark shadow. Atmey licked his lips and grinned.

'Come to reconsider, Mr Prosecutor? I knew you would relent in the end! My friends always said I could read people like a - '

A hand grabbed him by the throat, and his head was thrown forward. Atmey's nose slammed against the bars, and he yelped in pain, and then Miles was leaning in, his dark eyes inches away from Atmey's face.

'You listen to me, you bastard. If you're bluffing, and it turns out you don't know where I can find this ghost of mine, then I will hunt you down, Atmey, and I personally will see to it that you never get out again. Do you understand?'

Atmey gulped, and nodded jerkily.

'Now tell me, are you bluffing? Nod if you're not.'

Atmey nodded even faster. The next thing he knew, the cell door was being unlocked, and he was free. He staggered outside, marveling at how bright the world once again seemed.

Then he was thrown against the wall again. 'Tell me,' Miles said, his eyes horrible. 'Tell me where he is.'

'H-hold on, Mr Prosecutor,' Atmey said, regaining some of his composure and managing a sickly grin. 'A-a man's got to have some insurance once in a while, y'know, with those dark times - '

'Get to the point.'

'The point is, Mr Prosecutor, I'm not willing to hand everything over when that wretched hole is staring at me,' Atmey glared at the dark space with loathing. 'My fucking cell. Once I'm completely out of this building, I'll tell you.'

'No. You tell me now - '

'Arrogance, Mr Prosecutor, arrogance! You're forgetting who holds all the cards here! I assure you, I am an honest man, and I will tell you all you need to know, once you let me escape completely, as agreed.'

Miles's eyes grew even darker. For a moment Atmey thought he was going to punch him. Then Miles drew back and released a shuddering sigh.

'Follow me,' he said, and started down the corridor.

He had walked too close to the bars. From the bed in his cell, De Killer leapt forward, reached out, and then it was Miles's turn to get slammed into the bars. He dropped to the floor, the keys gone from his grasp, and by the time he got up, De Killer was sprinting away. He was out of sight in seconds.

Atmey was in hysterics. 'You let not only one,' he whooped,' but two cold blooded murderers escape! How does it feel, Mr Prosecutor, to be part of the great revolution of - '

Miles punched him. It felt wonderful to punch something solid. As Atmey reeled back, clutching his nose, Miles bent down to pick up the keys from the floor. De Killer had dropped them in his wake, which was something, at least. As Miles turned them over in his hand, he had a sudden, crazy, thought. When he turned to Armando's cell, Armando was already there, looking at him.

Miles cast a sideways glance at Atmey writhing in corner. He wasn't likely to be going anywhere in a hurry.

'Mr Armando,' Miles said. 'Would you like to leave your cell?'

'What's all this, Mr Prosecutor?' Armando said, and he was not smiling. 'I thought you were a man of the law.'

'Come on, Mr Armando,' Miles said, jiggling his keys and stepping forward.

'Nope.'

'What?' Miles stopped.

'Right now I'm driving across a rocky road, Mr Prosecutor. But despite all the bumps in the potholes, it's still a road, and I'll be glad to follow it.'

'Mr Armando...'

'There's nothing out there for me anymore, Mr Prosecutor. Every car has it's lifespan, every engine splutters sooner or later...and every coffee cup turns bitter no matter how hard you try. This cell is my home now, Mr Prosecutor, and just letting me out won't change things one bit.'

To the side, Atmey was slowly getting up, and Miles knew he didn't much time. He nodded briefly. 'If you say so, Mr Armando.'

'Good luck, Mr Prosecutor.'

'You too.'

Miles left the cell and scooped Atmey up. 'Let's go.'

'You - you punched me! Inconceivable - '

Miles dealt him a hard kick in the back, and Atmey went flailing forwards. When Miles caught him before he fell, the voice that came out of his mouth sounded like a different person.

'Move. Or back in the cell.'

'Y-yes, sir, Mr Prosecutor!' It was hard to tell whether he was being sarcastic or not. The two of them flew out of the dark confines of the cell block and into the light of the lobby. There were no guards around, just as Miles had planned. He had sent them all away. No doubt the Chief Prosecutor and the others would eventually uncover his role in the grand escape, but surprisingly Miles found himself caring very little about that. It was strangely liberating.

Unexpectedly, Atmey veered off course, and Miles chased after him. He found him in the evidence room, digging through an overturned locker.

'Just getting my precious belongings, nothing to be worried about!' He snapped at Miles. He withdrew a grimy cravat, tucked it into his shirt proudly, and continued digging.

'We don't have time for you to play dress up,' Miles growled.

'No, no, wait, it's in here, just wait, you cretin!'

Finally, Atmey withdrew a crumpled envelope. He thrust it at Miles. 'There! That's all he gave me! He told me to give it to you!'

Miles clutched the envelope as if it was his lifeline. 'Did you see his face?'

'No! He was wearing some sort of stupid mask - now if there's nothing more I'll take my leave now, thank you very much!'

He pushed past Miles and left. Miles knew he should be angry at himself for letting a homicidal - two homicidal maniacs in fact - go free and walk about in the streets. He also knew he was past caring about such things. He had been cocky, too cocky, but this time he had known what to do. The envelope he was squeezing in his hand was worth it.

He stood there for a few minutes, trying to reconcile what he had done, succeeded horrifyingly easily, and turned to leave. He found himself face to face with a guard.

'Sir,' the guard said. 'You are under arrest. Anything you say can and will be used against you - '

Miles tried to push past him, but more guards appeared, blocking his path. He punched and he kicked, but for it was worth he was against a brick wall. They grabbed hold of him as one and marched him out.

'Let - go!' Miles gasped. His hand, mercifully, still held the envelope. 'Here - this envelope - it's a clue! Dammit, the ghost, the culprit, I can find him! Let go!'

'You are advised to remain silent, sir,' they droned at him. 'Anything you say can and will be used against you.'

'Look at this! _Look at it!' _He waved the crumpled envelope at them. 'This is evidence! Listen to me!'

They wouldn't. To them, he was a criminal and they were the law. His cries fell on death ears as they dragged him out of the prison - for the moment.

* * *

><p>Nick saw the news just a few blocks away. It was on a television display on the side of the street, and as he walked past it, his feet and his heart stopped dead, caught by the single word, 'Gumshoe.'<p>

Nick doubled back and stared at the television screen.

A man had fell onto the train tracks at Kurain Station, six hours ago, and his body had been pulverized beyond recognition. He was only able to be identified by the person he was traveling with, one Maya Fey. The eighteen year old girl, who was in hysterics, maintained that the victim, named Dick Gumshoe, had not fallen by accident, but instead had been pushed. She named a blond man in a purple suit, named Kristoph Gavin, as the killer, and a search was currently underway.

The porridge, once so warm in Nick's belly, burnt out at once. Nick stumbled backwards, veered to the side, and vomited over his trenchcoat. All the while, the words he had forced onto Miles came back to haunt him.

_He's playing a game with us, and he's playing a good one..._

While Nick had been meandering uselessly around the city, Pearl's killer had slipped right through him, like a ghost. While Nick had been chatting with Edgeworth, the killer had followed Gumshoe and Maya, boarded the train with them, killed Gumshoe, Maya next in his sights. And Nick was miles away, unable to do anything but find hats.

Nick was willing to bet the police would be useless, too. Somehow, he knew that once the man named Kristoph Gavin had been caught, nothing more would change. Gavin was just another pawn, another piece in the game. The game that he was playing.

Incredulously, Nick felt his legs giving way beneath him.

He had to carry on. But he couldn't. He was helpless. The killer, the chessmaster, the man with the beanie, the ghost, had every single move planned out. It was useless.

All in all, it had been an unbelievably tiring day. And in that knowledge, Nick did what he had to do. Finally, crashing down onto the pavement, into the cold remains of his vomit, he went to sleep.


	17. Killer

'Mr Wright?'

He didn't want to wake up.

'Mr Wright?' Someone was shaking him.

_Pearl is dead._

'Mr Wright,' the voice rang clear with a dozen decades of wisdom. 'Mr Wright. You have to get up.'

_Gumshoe is dead._

'Mr Wright.'

He tried, tried desperately, to retreat back into his blissful nothingness of sleep, but it was no use. His senses were returning to him, and try as he might he couldn't push them away. Still he kept his eyes closed, treasuring the darkness.

At length he heard someone get up. He heard a door close. A slight rustling.

Nick groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the couch.

A valley of sound opened up. Someone was playing the violin.

It was a slow, sad melody, stretched out meticulously, like beads of a necklace dropping down a string, flowing around his ears and into his skull. Nick opened his eyes.

There was something circling above him, and there was brownness all around the thing. For a moment Nick thought he was dead. Then he recognised he was looking at a ceiling fan. He looked down and saw he was in someone's apartment.

The music was coming from behind a closed door. Nick got up and walked over to it.

'Mr Wright,' a voice said from amidst the melodies, 'If you have had adequate rest, I would advise you use the bathroom to augment your awakening. It should be to your left.'

Nick looked left, and the bathroom was there. He went over to the sink and splashed water onto his eyes. As he wiped down his face, from forehead to chin, he tried to place the somber chords swirling through his ears. He had heard this melody before. What was it? Cannon something? Canon D?

He washed and washed as the music played, until finally he couldn't wash anymore, and he stepped out. At the same time, the music stopped.

The door opened. A man, his back as straight as a ruler, walked out. He placed the tiny violin by the side, walked over to a nearby cabinet, and took out a small case. He slipped a cloth out of the case, wiped his monocle, replaced the cloth, put back the case, closed the cabinet.

Nick recognised the man. Alarm bells started ringing in his head, before he realised that he no longer had the strength to care anymore.

'De Killer.' Nick croaked.

The assassin turned. 'It's a pleasure to see you again, Mr Wright.'

'Go away.'

'I'm afraid I must require your services once more, Mr Wright.'

Nick threw his arm over his eyes and said nothing. He started moving back towards the couch, but some sort of angry thudding in his skull had started up, and he knew he wouldn't be sleeping again for a good more seven hours.

'Mr Wright? Are you feeling alright? Do you recognise me?'

'Go away,' Nick groaned.

'Mr Wright,' De Killer said again. After a moment Nick heard him approach. 'Mr Wright. I was under the impression that you had someone you needed to catch.'

'Who told you that?'

'Who else? Mr Wright, if you are going to simply lie down and vegetate, there will be nothing to stop your enemy from killing your friends.'

Nick didn't want to think. He let his brain drift.

'Mr Wright. He specifically brought you here to my doorstep and - '

Nick opened his eyes. 'What?'

'He brought you here. Your enemy. He showed up at my apartment with you over his shoulder.'

'He...he just picked up and carried me here?'

'Yes.'

'I thought,' Nick said slowly, 'That he was in Kurain.'

'He seemed perfectly tangible when I saw him.'

'Did he say anything?'

'He said I would find you useful. So he deposited you on the couch and left.'

'That's all?'

'He said something else, about how he was hadn't finished, and that his birthday gift wasn't even half complete.'

'And?'

'That's all. I was surprised as you were when he showed.'

'Did he show his face?'

'No. He was wearing a mask.'

Nick groaned. He brushed his arm off and stared at the fan, studying the rotating blades with rigorous intent.

'Mr Wright,' De Killer said. 'I know who he is.'

Nick, very slowly, rotated his head until he was looking the assassin straight in the eye.

'I know who your enemy is, Mr Wright,' De Killer said. 'But I will only tell you, if you do two small favors for me.'

Nick stared.

'Mr Wright? Do you understand what I'm saying?'

'I understand,' Nick detached himself from the leather and dragged himself up. 'I understand what a fucking, crazy, _bastard_ that guy is. I understand perfectly.'

'Mr Wright,' De Killer said. 'Do you wish to take up my offer?'

'What do you want me to do?'

The first favor is extremely simple,' De Killer pointed to the far end of the room, where a rickety table sat at the corner. On top of it was a bottle, a cork, and what appeared to be some sort of hammer.

'I want you to cork that bottle of wine, please.' De Killer said.

Nick got up. He crossed the room and to the table, feeling the weight of his body with every step. He reached the table and looked down. The bottle was already full. He picked up the cork and started stuffing it in.

'Use the mallet, Mr Wright.'

Nick picked up the hammer and struck. The cock was smashed into the neck and stayed there.

'Excellent work, Mr Wright,' De Killer said. 'Now, for your second task.'

He walked over to the closet and opened it. Inside were two pairs of tuxedos, both polished to shine.

'You and I, Mr Wright,' he said, 'Are going to attend a party.'

* * *

><p>Nick's body seemed to be on autopilot. He was hardly aware of what he was doing anymore. All of his efforts, his entire purpose, his entire being, all boiled down to one simple goal – find the masked man. That was all there was to it. Nick had been deadened of everything else. He wasn't sure if he was even feeling anything about Gumshoe's death now. The world was moving along, so fast.<p>

When he had changed into the tuxedo, he had kept the beanie on.

'Mr Wright? Are you still with me?'

'Wha - ? Yeah. I'm listening.'

'I shall repeat, Mr Wright. You will stay silent, and I will perform the discourse. And you must wear this mask.'

He brought out two black opera-masks. 'The party is supposed to be a masquerade, so it very conveniently gives us an opportunity to obscure our identities.'

Nick took his and strapped his own. 'Who's throwing the party?'

'I would prefer to keep that secret.'

'Do you mind telling me at least an inkling of what you're trying to make me do?'

'As a matter of fact, I do mind, Mr Wright. But I urge you not to fret. I am an trustworthy man. Once you have performed your task, I will give you the name of your assailant.'

Nick stared at the massive mansion towering above him. 'This is too easy,' he murmured. 'He won't make it that easy.'

'I tend to agree, Mr Wright, but it is none of my business.'

'How do you know who he is?'

'Simple deduction.'

'Can you just tell me now?'

'That will not be possible.'

Nick was silent for a few minutes.

'Mr Wright? Are you ready to go/'

Silence. De Killer drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He flipped down a mirror and checked his monocle. Nick continued wallowing in his solitude.

'Mr Wright,' De Killer said. 'Out of mere curiosity...what is your quarrel with that man?'

Nick turned. 'Do you have a gun?'

'Pardon?'

'You're a guy who kills people, right? You should have a gun. Give it to me.'

'Mr Wright, you can't possibly expect - '

'Give me a gun, Mr De Killer.'

De Killer surveyed him with his glass eye. 'I must comment, Mr Wright, you seem remarkably different from the lawyer I remembered.'

'Give me. A gun.'

After a pause, De Killer unlatched the glove compartment. He took out a small pistol. 'This is a Beretta, Mr Wright. It can hold up to ten rounds. To unlock the safety, you slide back the bolt here,' he demonstrated by cocking the weapon, before snapping it back. 'I'd advise you to hold it carefully. The recoil may jolt you, even if it weighs less than a kilogram.'

Nick took it, feeling the cold metal dig into his palms, and, very gingerly, slipped it inside his pants.

'Just what are you going to do with that gun, Mr Wright?,' De Killer said. 'I assure you, you will not be in any danger when we attend the party - '

'This isn't about the party,' Nick said. 'This is about him. You asked what my quarrel with him is, right? It's simple. He's just killed two of my closest friends, so,' he patted the lump in his tuxedo. 'I'm going to return the favor. I'm going to kill him.'

Nick opened the door and stepped out into the asphalt. The blaring music enumerating from the thudding mansion greeted him.

He looked back. 'Mr De Killer, aren't you coming?'

'I'm coming,' De Killer said, and got out. The two of them looked at each other and adjusted their bowties.

'Let's go join the party,' De Killer said, retrieving his bottle of wine from the car, and the two of them walked up the driveway.

* * *

><p>The main hall was filled with gentlemen and ladies, each with a dazzling smile on their faces and wine glasses in their hands. De Killer ignored all of them. He strode through the crowd, and Nick followed close behind, trying to resist the urge to head over to the buffet tables and blend in with the crowd. But he had no choice. He and De Killer were in the same boat, now, two intruders in marvelous masquerade, and both the intruders had to stick together.<p>

So Nick followed De Killer. He followed him upstairs, past the dancing guests, past the stone-faced waiters, until the blaring music faded away behind them. The corridor they were crossing now was silent.

Until they turned a corner, and found a man and a women thrust up against the wall, wrapped in each others arms and kissing.

The woman saw them and hastily shoved her bra back into place. 'Oh dear,' she said, and giggled. De Killer ignored them and swept past. Nick tried not to look at either of them.

'Listen,' he said to De Killer when they were alone. 'Your task for me...it doesn't involve...killing anyone, does it?'

'I assure you, Mr Wright,' De Killer said without turning round, 'that you will not have to harm anyone tonight.'

'I'm talking about me! I'm talking about you!' The floor progressing beneath Nick's feet suddenly seemed more solid.

'Why are you worrying, Mr Wright?' De Killer said, 'Didn't you condone the murder of your enemy a few minutes ago?'

'That was different. I don't want you to kill any innocent people.'

'Well, in that case, you don't need to worry, Mr Wright. The person I am targeting is most assuredly not innocent.'

Something big and large stepped in front of them, and De Killer stopped. It took a moment for Nick to realise that the obstruction standing in front of them was a man, and a very large one.

'Who are you?' it demanded. 'What do you want?'

'We are guests of your master,' De Killer said.

'Bullshit.'

'The person next to me is Phoenix Wright, and I am his chaperone.'

The man squinted. 'Phoenix Wright? The lawyer who got all crazy and murdered his kid?'

'Yes. That is indeed him. But I think your master would very much like to meet Mr Wright for a few short moments.'

The man stood still, swaying his large arms. 'Bullshit.'

'You can ask your master, if you wish. I assure you, he will be most anxious to - '

'This is all bullshit. Get out here, or I'm calling the cops.'

De Killer gave a dramatic sigh. 'It seems like I'll have to resort to more...conventional tactics.'

Nick tensed, but De Killer simply took out stack of fifty-notes. 'Would this be satisfactory?'

The man grabbed the notes and began counting them. 'I want another half of this,' he grunted.

De Killer tossed him another bundle of money.

'Satisfied?' De Killer said. The man glared at him, and opened his mouth.

'How about this, then?' De Killer raised the bottle of wine, which he had been carrying with him the entire time. 'This is a bottle of _Hochheimer Koengin Victoria Berg_. Straight from the German vineyards. Rumour has it that this particular wine is so delicate that they measure its fermentation rate in tiny seconds.'

The man grabbed it greedily.

'I'd advise you drink it tonight, if possible, before the chemical reactions decay it further.'

The man was already uncorking the bottle. De killer tilted his monocle and strode past him, with Nick following close behind.

They walked along the empty corridors for a few more moments, before they became aware of a new kind of music floating towards their ears. It was different from the elegant ballroom sonatas – this particular beat had a certain violent, desperate feel to it, some sort of heavy metal rap that screamed frustration with every chord. And, as the pair rounded the corner Nick saw where the music was coming from.

De Killer stepped up to the huge double doors and knocked. As the assassin stepped back, and waited, Nick looked at the name chiselled at the side of the door, and, as the music thudded into his ears, he mouthed the words in silent disbelief.

_Matt Engarde._


	18. Filth

There was a camera mounted on the wall that Nick hadn't noticed before. As soon as De Killer had knocked the camera swiveled around to meet them. A disembodied voice rang out from a hidden speaker. 'Whaddaya want?!'

Nick tried not to show his expression. The voice, its coldness, its carelessness, everything in each syllable reminded him of the most evil client he had ever faced in court.

De Killer was not daunted. 'Mr Wright,' he said. 'Please remove your mask.'

'Hey!' the voice yelled. 'You listening? I'm saying, whaddaya guys want - '

As the mask slipped off Nick's face, the voice stopped immediately. A few seconds of uncomfortable silence remained. Nick shifted awkwardly on his feet, aware of the gun inside his pants bumping against his hip. De Killer remained perfectly still.

Then, a chuckle from the air. Then a few more. 'Phoenix Wright,' the voice said. 'The ace attorney. What a coincidence.'

'I've got business with you, Engarde,' Nick said.

'So you do, eh? Lots of people have business with me...but you, you, Mr Wright, you're special, aren't you?' A few more chuckles. 'Don't let me delay you, Mr _Attorney. _Come on in, come on in.'_  
><em>

They heard automatic locks whirring beyond the doors, and then they swung open, exploding them with heavy rap music.

Inside was utter chaos. It appeared to be some sort of large ballroom, but it had long since been overrun. Strobing lights flashed all about the overturned tables, drunkards lay sprawled snoring across the floor, and puddles of vomit sat on the ground at regular intervals. And above all this mess lay a giant speaker, blaring out thudding chords of metal, chords so loud that Nick could feel his skull bending inwards from the strain.

A disheveled man dragged himself into their path. He turned towards them, and his eyes were blood-pink. 'Oh,' he groaned. 'Hi.' He hacked out something green and wet, and collapsed.

De Killer stepped over the drunkard, and Nick reluctantly followed him. Together they waded across the wreckage, occasionally diverting their path to avoid unidentifiable lumps of liquid.

They passed a man jumping up and down on a chair, his head bobbing to the beat. 'Yeah yeah yeahm' he was muttering. 'Yeah yeah yeah, ain't got nothin to LOSE, ain't got nothin to FEEL, I'm just bound by CHAINS...'

As they passed him the rocker turned his head up and yelled after them. 'Ain't got nothing to lose ain't got nothing to feel I'm just bound by CHAAAIIINNSSSS...'

Nick had to resist every nerve his his body to not to look at the demented rocker behind him. He thought of the elegant gentlemen and ladies waltzing around one floor below with their masks. It was hard to believe, now, that such a place had even existed.

De Killer suddenly stopped.

'What?' Nick said.

'Now, we wait,' De Killer said.

'Wait for what?'

'Preparations,' De Killer said simply.

'What?' Nick said.

'Preperations, Mr Wright.'

Nick gave up.

As he stared around, a greasy women crawled up from the floor and attached herself to his leg. Nick cried out and instinctively tried to shake her off.

'Got a puff?' the woman whispered. 'Got a puff?'

'A puff? Mam - just - calm down...'

'Got a puff?' she repeated. 'Got a puff? Got a puff?'

Her eyes were rolling about her sockets. She was about to fall over, but Nick caught her. 'You need a doctor,' he told her.

'Got a puff?'

De Killer walked over, grabbed her by the shoulders and threw her off. She shrieked and rolled around on the floor.

'You didn't have to be that rough,' Nick said.

'I am afraid I did,' De Killer said. 'I think we have waited an adequate time. Let us proceed.'

They started moving again.

'What is this place,' Nick whispered.

'The home where all Engarde's filth reside,' De Killer said. 'Drug addicts, alcoholics, stoners. That is the filth that Engarde surrounds himself with after he was released.'

The last time Nick had seen Engarde, the man, although a twisted psychopath, was a fairly cultured man. The mere fact that he had degenerated into this after just a few years spent in prison suddenly jolted Nick to the bone.

'So...' he whispered.

'There's no need to whisper, Mr Wright.'

'So...' Nick closed his eyes briefly. 'You're going to kill him.'

De Killer reached the end of the room and knocked on the single door that lay before him. 'Yes, Mr Wright. I am going to put him down.'

As before, he stepped back, folded his hands, and waited for the door to open. Heavy metal roared around them.

'What took you so long?' a voice drawled. 'It's open.'

De Killer stepped forward and wrapped his gloved fingers around the knob. 'After you, Mr Wright.'

The assassin gently pushed the door open.

Nick saw black curtains, as smooth as silk, running through the room like a river of night. At the end of the room was a single table, with alternating empty and full glasses of dark beer. And as De killer closed the door, immediately blotting out the music, Nick saw a couch sitting behind the table of beer, and on that couch was Matt Engarde.

'Wright,' Engarde said. 'It's been a long time – ' he stopped himself to take a deep swallow from his beer bottle before continuing. 'It's been a long time.'

'Mr Engarde,' Nick said. 'You…you don't look well.'

'Look well!' Engarde shouted. 'Look well! I don't look well, he says! Well, I don't look well, not well at all,' he chuckled and forced himself up. 'Very astute, Mr Wright. Very _sharp. _Very attornyish.'

'Are you alright?' Nick said, half out of genuine concern. Engarde looked like he was going to topple sideways any moment.

'I'm alright, Wright,' Engarde said. 'All…Wright. Wright. It's really quite lucky that you came. I was just thinking of you, actually.'

His hand shot forward, grasping Nick by throat. 'I was really, really _dying _to see you, Mr Wright.'

He drew back his hand, dragging Nick along with it, and then in one rough motion he slammed Nick on top of the table, sending wine and glass exploding in all directions. The next thing Nick knew Engarde's mangled face was leaning in.

'I never paid you back, did I?' Engarde breathed. 'Your _fee. _For doing your job. A life for a life, Mr Wright. You killed me by sending me to that hellhole. Now I'm going to kill you back.'

De killer coughed.

Engarde froze, and then turned round. 'And who the hell are you? Mr Attorney's newboy?'

'That would be incorrect.'

Engarde's eyes bulged. 'You best not be playing around with me, newboy. I could take you out to the balcony and hang you over the stairs, you know that?'

'I'm sorry to disappoint you, Engarde,' De Killer said. 'But it will not be possible for you to leave this room tonight.'

The assassin took off his mask.

Engarde swayed slightly. He released Nick and took a step forward. 'It's you.'

'It is me, Engarde.'

'You,' Engarde said. 'You…you've come to kill me.'

'That is correct.'

Engarde threw his hair down over his face and bent over. For a moment Nick thought he was crying - until a whistling laugh escaped from within. 'Well. It's about time, Mr Killer! Took you long enough to show up!'

He grinned madly. 'This is lucky. This is really, really, lucky. To think I've snagged two birds in the same place.'

'Engarde, you seem to be deluding yourself,' De killer said, raising his gloved claws and stepped forward. 'I'm afraid that if there is any snagging to be done, it will be at my own hand – '

Out of the curtains came a legion of gunmen. They emerged from every nook and cranny of the room, trapping the three of them in a circle, and raised their guns. Nick recognised the massive guard they had met earlier. De Killer froze.

'Sorry, Mr Killer,' Engarde said, dancing away and beyond the circle of guns. 'But ever since I got out I've been taking precautions. Never leave home without your own personal security team. How could you have been so stupid?! Did you think, you stupid idiot, that I wasn't _prepared? _All my life I have been waiting, for this...' he gave another ghastly laugh.

De killer folded his hands and stood still. Nick, his heart pounding, let the glass fall off his jacket and stood up.

'Mr Engarde,' he said, raising a hand. 'We can work this out – '

'If you raise that hand any higher,' Engarde said. 'Raoul here will blow it off,' he patted the huge man on the back, who smiled silently. 'It's very simple, Misters Wright and Killer. You both may have beaten me last time, but, this time, I'm the one with the gun here. Here's what's going to happen. Raoul here and his friends are going to open fire and hit you two as many times as they deem fit. Once both of you drop dead onto the ground, Raoul and his friends will shoot you somemore. Then, we are going to dump your bodies into the garbage truck and everyone will be none the wiser.'

Nick swallowed. 'Engarde. Listen to me. I'm currently pursuing someone - and - it would be in our best interests to - '

Engarde clapped his hands and rubbed them together. 'Three words for you, Mr Wright. I don't care. Never did, never will. Back to the point though. What do you all think of the grand fate I have in store for you guys?'

'It's an excellent course of action,' De Killer said. 'But you seem to have neglected one tiny aspect?'

'And what's that?' Engarde smirked.

'The wine.'

'What wine? What are you babbling about?'

'The wine which I had give your friend Mr Raoul,' De killer said. 'The _Hochheimer Koengin Victoria Berg, _if I recall correctly. He should have already finished the bottle by now.'

'What's he talking about?' Engarde said, as Raoul's face grew paler and paler.

'I would like to ask you something, Mr Raoul, if I may?' De Killer stepped forward, and the knot of guns instantly honed in on him.

'Don't move!'

'Mr Raoul,' De Killer said. 'Did you take the wine yourself, or did you share it with your friends?'

'What's he talking about?' Engarde said again.

'Mr Raoul,' De Killer said. 'Did you keep the wine to yourself, or did you share it with your team?'

Raoul blinked heavily. 'I...I shared it...?'

'Good,' De killer nodded. 'That makes things rather simple.'

One of the gunmen fell. His muscles simply relaxed, and his body melted to the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut.

'What the - ' Engarde moved round, and as he looked at the guard on the ground, another one behind him dropped his gun and toppled over.

Engarde twisted round again, but two more guards collapsed like a pile of dominoes. Then three more. Now it was Raoul's turn to collapse, his eyes rolling up to the back of his head and his massive bulk trembling the ground when it dropped. Engarde looked, turned, stared all around him, and all he could see were the senseless lumps that were his security team.

Someone stepped up to him. Engarde turned, once again, but a gloved hand grasped him by the neck and lifted him up. Gasping and writhing like a caught fish, Engarde looked down and saw the single monocle burning in the light.

'Engarde,' De Killer said, digging in his fingers so that his prisoner screeched and writhed, 'Did you honestly think I didn't come prepared?'


	19. Visitor

**Please review. It makes me happy.**

* * *

><p>The police officer stood with his back to the wall, hands behind his back, waiting for instructions.<p>

'Give me the details,' the Chief Prosecutor said.

The officer gave the details promptly. He outlined how, after Miles Edgeworth had called in a bomb threat at a nearby mall, the entire contingent of officers had deserted the station, leaving it empty. And, in the process, two prisoners had escaped - namely, the crazed double murderer Luke Atmey, but, more importantly, the famed assassin Shelly De Killer. The person who had aided them in their escape and led them to freedom was none other than Miles Edgeworth.

The Chief sat down. 'I don't believe this.'

He put his head in his hands. The officer waited patiently.

Finally the Chief looked up. 'Where is he now?'

'In Holding, sir.'

'Has he said anything?'

'He keeps insisting we should read some sort of envelope, sir.'

'Envelope?'

'It was clutched in his hands. We put it in Evidence, sir.'

'Have you opened it?'

'No, sir.'

'Don't open it. We'll have to find out more before we can...we can get to the bottom of this,' the Chief wiped his brow. 'Miles Edgeworth...of all people...'

He stood up. 'Walk with me. We'll have to pay him a visit.'

The officer bowed and led the Chief down the pale grey corridor.

'It is really very disappointing.'

'It is, sir.'

'Very disappointing.'

'Yes, sir.'

* * *

><p>Miles Edgeworth, the handcuffs dangling from his wrist, threw himself into the Evidence room and scrambled behind some chairs. Through the small gap he could see two figures walking past through the corridor. A police officer, and the Chief. After they had gone, Miles waited a few seconds, and then gently closed the door.<p>

He turned to the evidence lockers before him, and began searching. It didn't take him long to find the envelope. With shaking hands he tore it open and snatched out the small piece of paper that lay within.

_To whomever is reading this:_

_Please find enclosed a bank account number and the security PIN. I would request whomever is reading this to kindly withdraw - _

A yell. From somewhere down the corridor. Then running feet. Miles stuffed the note inside what was left of his pocket, tiptoed to the door and listened.

Someone - or two people - or several groups of officers - were running about, although in what direction they were heading Miles was unsure. He stood crouched against the door until the sounds died away, and then stepped out.

It was a full ten minutes before he was able to make it out of the building. On the way out, striding through the parking lot, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on the ground. Then he wheeled around and walked off in the opposite direction. It was only another five minutes later did he stop to throw himself into a nearby alleyway, take the letter out of his pocket and continue to read it.

_To whomever is reading this:_

_Please find enclosed a bank account number and the security PIN. I would request whomever is reading this to kindly withdraw $100,000 from my bank account, and pass it to the person in residence at 452 Calcutter Avenue. _

_Thank you._

* * *

><p>The rain was pouring down in deep rivers of moisture, seeping into the pavements and slipping down int the drains. Miles took a brief minute to ponder how often it rained these days, almost impossibly so, as if the heavens above were lavishing their discontent at the tragic events befalling him. Miles settled back into his seat and slipped out the note. He read it again, carefully, and placed it on the dashboard. He allowed his head to sink into the cushioned seat and watched the raindrops skimmer across the glass.<p>

It was a very probable possibility that the police would be searching for his car, and that Miles needed to abandon it at the latest opportunity, but he found himself curiously aloof about the whole thing. As long as he wasn't found before he accomplished his task, all would be fine.

_I'm exactly like Nick now...no, not like him, not exactly. He was framed for breaking the law. I broke the law._

What would Gumshoe say to him, if he were still alive? Miles didn't know. He reached for the note on the dashboard, opened it and read it once again.

_To whomever is reading this:_

_Please find enclosed a bank account number and the security PIN. I would request whomever is reading this to kindly withdraw $100,000 from my bank account, and pass it to the person in residence at 452 Calcutter Avenue. _

_Thank you._

Miles folded back the note and replaced it. He reached for his phone, and, for the fourth time in three hours, dialed Maya's number. And, as before, he got her voicemail.

'Hi! Sorry but I must be busy somewhere else! Leave a message after the beep! Beep!'

'Maya,' Miles said. 'Call me. I won't pretend what to know what you're feeling, but, please, just call me. I need to know that you're alright. Nick needs to know, too. So just call, but whatever you do, _stay with the police._ Don't you dare go trying to do anything on your own.'

He received nothing but silence. Miles dialed another number, and put it to his ear.

'I'm sorry. The number you are trying to contact is not avaliable...'

Miles snapped the phone shut and thrust it into his pocket. Nick wasn't answering, either.

He opened the door and alighted from the car.

The handcuffs were still wrapped around his arm, digging uncomfortably into his skin as he walked, like small pinpricks of ice. A few hours earlier, at the police station, the officers had cuffed him to the table, but he had broken the leg into two and slipped his cuffs off them. Since he had no key, however, the handcuffs would have to remain. He had had to hide them in a large overcoat he had stored in his car for such emergencies, so when he had arrived at the bank, no one was any the wiser. He had withdrawn the correct amount of money as imparted to him by the letter, and now, his feet splashing around him with the rain flowing down his shoulders, he was following the next set of instructions. 452 Calcutter Avenue loomed in front of him.

It was a strange request, and Miles didn't have a clue of what importance this menial task held for the mysterious ghost that he had been pursuing. He was sure of one thing, though - he wouldn't be walking down the street right now if the killer hadn't planned it. Whoever had been orchestrating this sick web of insanity and death, it was nothing else but an individual with a plan. All Miles could do now was follow the path set out for him. He had absolutely no other leads. Whoever was waiting for him at the prescribed house was Miles' only chance.

He knocked the door, stepped back, and waited. He heard the sound of locks tumbling around in their chambers before the door swung open and he found himself gazing at a serene-faced beauty.

There was no question that she was in her late forties; age had descended upon her, treating her face with several faint, intangible lines, and her greying hair was already tinged with specks of the slightest white, but her body was as firm as a brick and her eyes as solid as marble. She smiled primly and said, 'Have you been swimming?'

'What?'

'Have you been swimming?'

'I - no, mam.'

'Oh,' she stared into his face for several seconds. 'You look wet.'

'I got caught in the rain.'

'Oh,' she nodded again. Then her face melted into concern. 'You'll get drenched, standing like that! Come in, come in!'

She practically dragged him inside, and shut the door. Miles quickly scanned the living room. It looked normal enough, with a few tables, chairs, and books. The woman seemed to have completely disappeared, and Miles took the opportunity to pounce over to the nearest bookshelf. Just as he was about to rifle through it, something blue popped out from the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a unicorn swimming float float tossed on top of a piles of books.

Blinking, Miles went over to it. _I sensed she was dedicated about swimming, but this is ridiculous...__  
><em>

Then he looked around. This corner of the room was shabby messy, much more carelessly tended then the rest. It was as if this entire corner of the room was meant as some sort of impromptu storeroom. Miles approach the pile of items, and saw a framed picture lying face-down at the corner of the room. Miles bent down and lifted it. Through the smudged plastic he thought he could see to people. A woman, and the man. He recognised the woman as the one currently in this house, and the man...the man was strangely familiar...

He heard her coming back and hurriedly replaced the picture. The next thing he knew, his host bustling into the kitchen, putting the kettle on the stove and turning the heat up. 'I don't know what's gotten into people these days,' she grumbled to the air. 'Standing outside in the rain. Why do you people do that? It's not as if you're going to experience some existential revelation. All you're doing is going to catch a cold.'

As she gestured her hand moved dangerously close to the fire. Miles quickly stepped in and gently brushed her arm away. 'Be careful, Mrs...?'

'Mrs Gant. Call me Emily. And you would be?'

Miles was sure he hadn't managed to conceal all his shock, but she didn't seem to have noticed it. 'It's Edgeworth,' he said quickly. 'Miles Edgeworth. Er, you can call me Miles.'

'Miles,' Mrs Gant said thoughtfully. 'Like meters.'

'Er...yes. Mrs Gant, I need to talk to you about something...'

She waved a hand. 'Let it wait until the coffee boils.'

'Coffee?'

'Yes, coffee.'

'Er...there's nothing in the kettle.'

She looked back. 'Oh, silly me.' She opened the shelf and took out a packet. 'There. Now - '

'That's not coffee.'

She frowned at him. 'Yes it is.'

'I'm sorry, but it isn't,' Miles said. 'You're holding Tapioca Flour.'

She looked at the packet in her hands. 'No.'

'It says so on the front,'

She stood staring at it for a few moments. 'Well, _no wonder. _I'd felt like I'd been drinking bread these past few months.'

She smiled benignly at him. 'You really are a helpful young man.'

Miles thought if he went through with this charade any longer, he would go mad. A psychopathic killer was out hunting Nick's loved ones, and here he was talking to a woman who didn't know the difference between a bean and a kernel.

As he watched her pour the powder into the empty kettle, lump by lump, he grabbed her arm. Shr jerked back from the impact and stared at him in surprise. 'Miles...?'

'I'm sorry, but this is really important, Mrs Gant - '

'Call me Emily.'

'_Emily,_' Miles gritted his teeth. 'Listen. I need to talk to you. Now. If you could just - '

'Whatever it is,' she smiled at him. 'I'm sure it can wait until the coffee - '

'_I don't care about the coffee!' _Miles spat,

A shock silence descended over the kitchen. The simmering pulses of the fire seemed in tune with Miles's beating heart. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'But this is a matter of life and death.'

Her eyes narrowed slightly. 'Well, then,' she huffed, 'Let's see what this is all about.'

They went into the sitting room together, leaving the kettle to simmer insidiously on the stove. Miles sat down, and started talking.

'I'm a senior Prosecutor, and I'm looking for a wanted criminal,' Miles said. 'He's already killed two people and I need to arrest him before it's too late. Now,' he took out the letter and spread it before her. 'I received this from him a few hours ago. It asked me to deliver a hundred thousand dollars to you. Do you know of anyone who might - '

Her eyes were brimming over with ill-disguised joy. 'Hundred thousand,' she whispered, licking her lips.

'Mrs Gant,' Miles said. 'Emily. I need you to tell me who could have wanted to send this money to you. Perhaps,' and here his heart leaped, 'Perhaps it was your husband, Damon Gant, who wanted to - '

'Oh, that's not possible,' she said, still reading the letter.

'I'm sorry?'

'Damon's dead. He kicked it while in prison,' she pursed her lips as she examined the letter. 'A hundred thousand? that's six zeros. A lot.'

Miles, meanwhile, was deflated. But he hadn't really expected it to be this easy, anyway. 'I'm sorry for your loss,' he said. 'Mr Gant was a good man. Misguided, but his intentions were - '

'Do you have the money?' Mrs Gant said. 'With you, I mean? Right now?'

'Y-yes.'

'May I have it?'

He took out the stakcs of notes and passed them to her, one by one. She smiled and giggled when the paper touched her hands. 'Thank you, Miles,' she grinned, running her finger across the notes. 'Thank you. You're a godsend.'

'You're welcome, Mrs Gant, but do you know anyone, apart from your husband, who might want to send you this much money?'

'I have no idea,' she said. 'I'm very, very curious, though, but, as they say, curiosity killed the cat.'

After counting the bills she placed them by her side and continued to read the letter. Miles bent over and clutched his face, shielding his face from her, hiding his tears of frustration. What was the point of this? What did the killer want him to do?

'What are these numbers?' he heard her say.

'I'm sorry?' he looked where she was pointing. 'Oh. That's the bank account number and pin. I was told to withdraw the money from his specific bank account...'

But as he read the numbers, her eyes widened in recognition. Abruptly she picked up the bundles of money and practically threw them back at him.

'Mrs Gant?!'

'I'm not taking any of it,' she whispered.

''Why?'

She looked at him as if he was a moron. 'It's his.'

'Who's?'

'It's Damon's,' she got up and started pacing. 'It's Damon's account. I told them to freeze it months ago!' she grabbed at her hair. 'Those incompetent idiots...'

'I...I don't understand, Mrs Gant,'

'It's dirty money,' she said. 'Don't you see? It's his money. The money of a murderer. What would people think if I took that money?' she shook her hair again. 'They would think I some kind of nutjob, just like him.'

She looked at his open-mouthed face, and let out a ghastly laugh. 'You don't understand? How could you not? Aren't you supposed to be a Prosecutor?'

Miles stood up. 'Mrs Gant, you aren't feeling well. Perhaps you should sit down...'

'You should sit down,' Mrs Gant said, and as she smiled at him, it became something more like a smirk.

Miles sat down, every nerve in his body tingling at high speed.

'Mrs Gant,' he said. 'I don't think you should talk of your husband that way.'

'He's no longer my husband,' she said. 'He was never my husband. The moment he went and stabbed that poor man he was no longer, any husband of mine.'

'You should have loved him,' Miles said, feeling uncharacteristic hate bubble through his veins. He thought of Gumshoe. 'He was your husband, and you should have loved him.'

'But he was a murderer!' shw snapped. She opened her mouth wider, and Miles thought she was going to shout, but then she closed her eyes and settled her expression. A moment later a wry sneer scuttled across her face.

'You wouldn't understand anyway,' she said. 'You uneducated, soulless fool. Breaking two criminals out of prison? Well, I'd say that would be quite moronic behaviour, don't you think? And for a Prosecutor, even?' she tossed her hair behind her head. 'That's why I keep telling everyone,' she said. 'The law system's going to the dogs.'

'Miles sprang to his feet.

'Don't bother. I called the police fifteen minutes ago. They're already here.'

Through the windows, Miles could see blue figures moving in between the sleets of rain.

Mrs Gant walked over to the kitchen, switched of the fire, poured the coffee out into a mug and lifted it to her lips. 'You can try running,' she said. 'I'm very interested to see if you make it past the fence.'

Miles twisted round, and dove through the window. The glass exploded around him and he hurtled back into the rainy morning, but as soon as his legs touched the grass someone slammed something hard into the back of his neck. Miles collapsed, his eyes swimming, until he closed them and drifted into unconsciousness.


End file.
